


Our Little World Is Only Big Enough For Us

by goldenicarus



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Comfort/Angst, Detention, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Build, Teen Angst, Top Bucky Barnes, Underage Drug Use, anal sex (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenicarus/pseuds/goldenicarus
Summary: "And these children that you spit on,As they try to change their worldsAre immune to your consultations.They're quite awareOf what they're going through."- David BowieOr, The Breakfast Club AU No One Asked For





	

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I started this at least half a year ago, and finally I'm able to publish it.  
> Huge, huge thanks to cptnmarvel-ous.tumblr.com/(AO3) cptnmarvel_ous for helping me write a certain part of the fic; you all can thank her for 3:41 PM  
> This fic is heavily based off the Breakfast Club, so if you haven't seen it - Spoilers!  
> I have edited specific parts of the story and couples.  
> The Roles:  
> Steve - The Brains  
> Sam - The Jock  
> Sharon - The Princess  
> Natasha - The Outcast  
> Bucky - The Criminal  
> Everyone is 17-18 in this fic

 

Saturday. November 26th, 2016. NYC High School, New York.

_Dear Mr. Pierce,_

_We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are. Why do you care? You see us as you want to see us as; in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions._

_You see us as:_

_A brain. An athlete. A basket case. A princess. And a criminal._ _Correct?_

_That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning._

_We were brainwashed..._

* * *

**7:00 AM**

 

"I can't believe you can't get me out of this. It's so absurd! I have to be here on a _Saturday_!" The young woman huffs and leans further into the passenger car seat, a deep frown set against her lips.

"Sharon, honey, ditching class to go shopping may be what your mother would approve of, but I don’t. I think it’s good that you have to be here.”

Sharon doesn’t spare her father a glance as she shoves the car door open. She barely registers his soft, “Have a good day," before the door slams shut, and she makes her way up the school’s front steps.

_____

"Is this the first time or the last time we do this?”

"Last..." Comes a quiet reply.

"Good. Now, when you get in there you use the time to your advantage."

"Mom, we're not supposed to study; we just have to sit there and do nothing."

"Steven Grant,” The blond winced at the use of his full name, “you figure out a way to study. Now go."

Steve gets out of the car and walks towards the school without another word.

_____

"I still think Riley should be here, too. You were both caught, weren’t you?"

“Mom already lectured me, alright? If you don’t want me here, why do I need to show up?”

"Samuel, I never said you shouldn’t be here. Do you wanna miss a match? You wanna blow your ride?” Sam shakes his head, shrinking some at his father’s tone, “Then you get in there and get this detention over with. No school's gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case."

_____

Walking across the parking lot arrives another student, his face hidden behind sunglasses.

When a car turns into the parking lot, he doesn't stop walking or slow his pace. The vehicle slams on it's breaks directly in front of him, and the brunet smiles at the angry voice that erupts from inside. The language is unfamiliar to him, though he does pick up, “Asshole!”

He turns on his heel to smile back at the car and calls back, “The name’s Barnes, actually!”

As he starts up the steps, out of the car steps a redhead. She moves forward to look in the front window, but the vehicle drives away before she can say goodbye.

* * *

**7:03 AM**

There are six tables in two rows of three.

Sharon is sitting at the front. When Steve enters, he only looks her way for a second before he decides to sit at the table besides her.

Sam comes in not a minute after, and points at the chair next to Sharon. She shrugs and he sits.

Barnes struts through the doors and he pauses to touch everything on the checkout desk, taking a few things in the process. He walks over to where Steve is sitting and points to the table behind Sam and Sharon’s table. Steve holds his gaze until Barnes decides to give in, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smirk at the blond’s defiance. He sits at the back table instead, slipping his jacket off to drop it upon the table’s surface before propping his feet up on the empty seat besides him.

The redhead finally wanders in, her eyes dancing across the four unfamiliar faces in the room. She wanders all the way around the library before she sits in the back corner table, just behind Steve. All eyes are still on her.

Sam and Sharon turn to each other and snicker. Steve’s looking at the newcomer with confusion, but turns away when she glances his way.

Silence fills the library until the clicking of shoes in the hallway grabs all of their attention. Steve straightens his posture as Alexander Pierce walks in. He holds a stack of papers in his left hand, and addresses the group with obvious annoyance dripping from his words, "Well, well. Here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time."

Sharon raises her hand. "Excuse me, sir? I think there's been a mistake. I know it's detention, but I don't think I belong in he-"

Pierce just continues to talk over her words. "It is now seven-oh-six. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways."

Barnes spits into the air and catches the spit in his mouth again. Steve had glanced back at him for only a moment, but catches the action and turns away quickly. He covers his mouth, ready to gag.

"And you may not talk. You are not allowed to have your phones, so it’d be wise to let me collect them now.”

Sam’s eyes roll and Sharon lets out an exaggerated sigh, both of them pulling their phones out to hand over as Pierce begins making his rounds to the tables. “You will not move from these seats." Pierce’s attention is drawn to Barnes when he reaches Steve’s table and he lifts a finger to point in his direction. "And you," He begins, walking over to pull the chair out from under Barnes’ feet, "will not sleep.” The brunet’s eyes narrow to a glare as Pierce turns and heads back up the aisle. “Alright people, we're gonna try something a little different today. We are going to write an essay of no less than a thousand words describing to me who you _think_ you are."

Barnes smiles, though there’s no joy behind it, "Is this a test?"

Pierce sets the phones down besides the stack of paper he had walked in with, and begins passing out the sheets with pencils, pretending to take no notice of Barnes’ comment.

"And when I say essay," He continues, "I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times.” He pauses in front of Barnes’ table, sliding a paper his way, “Is that clear Mr. Barnes?"

The brunet doesn’t respond for a beat, but eventually murmurs, "Crystal."

Pierce nods, the action stiff. "Good. Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself. Might even decide whether or not you care to return."

Steve raises his hand and then stands. "You know, I can answer that right now sir. That'd be ‘no’ for me. 'Cause-"

"Sit down, Rogers."

Steve's mouth snaps shut. He holds Pierce's gaze but does as told.

"My office," Pierce points towards the doors, "is right across that hall. Any messing around is ill-advised." He looks around at them. "Any questions?"

Barnes lazily raises his hand, "Yeah, I got a question."

Pierce eyes him suspiciously.

“What was it like living with the dinosaurs?"

Pierce raises his head, his jaw set tight. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Barnes, next Saturday."

Pierce turns on his heel, and after he leaves Steve lets out a long exhale. "That man's crazy." He murmurs, his words meant for himself. But Barnes smiles.

"That man," his gaze sets on Steve as he continues, "is an asshole."

Steve ignores him.

It takes roughly ten minutes after everyone’s tried to get comfortable when they hear a scratching noise. When Steve deciphers the sound is coming from behind him, he turns to the mysterious redhead. Filing her nails.

Barnes’ smile widens as he turns to look. She notices, her lips even tug up in a slight grin at the attention, but she pays them no mind.

"You tryin’ to make weapons outta them?" Barnes speaks up after a few seconds. She lifts her gaze over to him, and slides the filer across her nails one last time before dropping it to the table - her sharpened nails tapping once against the surface. Barnes only smiles her way. "I've seen you before, y’know. Outside the school.” She doesn't respond. “You’re a dancer. Natasha, right?”

Natasha finds more interest in the floor than his words.

* * *

**7:21 AM**

 

Steve’s playing with his pencil, dropping it eraser down onto the table to watch it bounce.

"Who do I think I am?” Sam murmurs to himself at the table besides him, “Who are you? _Who am I_ ?" He attaches his pen to his bottom lip and puts the top under his upper lip. Barnes’ attention turns to him, an eyebrow raised as the other boy mutters to himself. Sam doesn't speak for a passing minute. Then, in a near whisper: "I am a _falcon_."

Barnes looks at him in utter confusion. Sharon notices the situation and laughs to herself as Sam takes the pen out of his mouth.

Steve begins to take off his jacket but pauses when he feels eyes on him. When he turns, he finds it’s Barnes’ gaze he felt.

Slightly annoyed, he mocks, "See somethin' nice?"

Barnes narrows his eyes at him before uttering a painfully fake laugh. He turns away and crumples up his essay paper, eyes now on the blonde at the table in front of him. He throws it at Sharon, wincing when it misses and goes over her head. Sam and Sharon acknowledge only the paper, continuing to ignore the man behind them.

Annoyed that he's being ignored, Barnes decides to start loudly ‘hum,’ thrumming his fingers on the top of his table. Natasha smiles as his attempt for attention. Steve covers his ears to block him out. Sharon hides her face in her hands.

"I can't believe this is happening to me." She complains.

Then, Barnes stops abruptly. "Oh, shit!" He announces, hands slamming on his table - Steve jumps at the action, and Natasha hides her widening smile behind her hand, "What're we s'posed to do if we have to take a piss?"

Sharon keeps her face where it’s hidden in her palms, a muffled, "Oh, please," escaping.

Barnes hears her. "Listen, blondie,” He addresses, rising from his seat, “If you gotta go..." There's the clear sound of a fly unzipping. Everyone shifts in their seats, "You. Gotta. _Go_."

"Oh my God!" Steve exclaims, turning right back around in his chair.

"Whoa, hey!” Sam jumps out of his own, “You are _not_ pissing in here, man!"

“Don't talk! Don't talk!” Barnes shakes his head, “Makes it weird-"

"You whip it out and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor!" Sam threatens. Barnes stops then, looking Sam’s way as he mockingly gasps. "You know," he leans forward over his table, "you're pretty sexy when you get angry..."

Sam keeps his expression hard, not letting Barnes get a reaction out of him. And Barnes gives in, zipping back up as he drops back into his seat. He turns to Steve.

"Hey, glasses."

"Oh, good God." Steve nearly bangs his head against his table.

"Why don't you go close that door." Barnes continues, gesturing to the propped open library door, "Find someplace private. And you and I can have some _fun_."

Steve turns and glares at him. Barnes only responds with smile.

"Hey!" Sam starts. Barnes ignores him, instead shooting Steve a wink. So he loudly repeats, " _Hey_!"

That’s when Barnes turns to him, unimpressed. "What?"

"I don’t lose my temper easily. But if I lose it, it's your ass I'm kicking!"

"Oh, really?" Barnes leans back against his chair, the front legs lifting up from the floor.

"Yes!"

“Sounds kinda kinky-"

"Why don't you just be quiet!” Sharon finally snaps, whipping around in her seat, “Nobody here is interested!"

Her words are enough to shut Barnes right up.

* * *

**7:30 AM**

 

Uncomfortable silence had begun to settle within the library; Steve’s running his fingers through his hair, eyes on the empty sheet of paper before him. Sam’s attempted to start his essay, the first three words written down. Sharon’s playing with her hair.

The sound of boots tapping rhythmically against the floor are what break the silence. When Sharon turns to investigate the noise - expecting to see another cry for attention from Barnes - she instead locks eyes with Natasha. The quiet woman gives her a suspicious look, before halting her feet and putting an end to the tapping.

Any hopes for silence afterwards is destroyed immediately.

"Hey, jockey!" Barnes calls out. Sam has to close his eyes to attempt to calm himself down, feeling his heart rate spike just from the sound of Barnes’ voice. "What'd you do to get in here?" He continues, though he doesn't get any reaction from the other man. In a quieter tone he adds, "You kill a man?"

Sam lets out an exaggerated exhale through his nose, muttering to himself, "I'm about to.”

Steve, irritated, speaks up, "Can you both shut up?"

His words are drowned out by Sam's, however, who's turned entirely in his seat to face Barnes. "Look, just because you practically live here doesn't give you the right to be a pain in the ass. So knock it off!"

Barnes mockingly registers pain in his face. "Last I checked, it's a free country."

Steve clears his throat to get Sam’s attention, "He's doing it to get a rise out of us. Just ignore him."

Barnes’ gaze jumps to Steve, and the corner of his lips tug up in a smirk. "Sweetheart, you couldn't ignore me if you tried."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"Oh! Okay, big question." Barnes turns his attention to Sam and Sharon. Sharon is the only one to acknowledge him. "Are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend?" Sharon's eyes widen. "Lovers?" Sam drops his head onto the desk with a loud thump. "No?" He hums. Barnes snaps his fingers then, pointing to Sharon as he exclaims, "Oh, wait, lemme guess why! You're gay!"

Sharon’s face goes red, and she turns away from him completely. Barnes leans forward, his table scraping against the floor at the force. "Holy shit!" He laughs, "I was totally fuckin' with you but...really?" When Sharon uses her hair to shield her face from the other four people in the room, Barnes drops heavily back onto his seat, "Explains why no one sees you with anyone. _Ever_."

“Leave me alone!” Sharon shouts over her shoulder.

And Sam, tensed and annoyed, snaps, “Enough!”

All five kids go tense at a distant yell across the hall, “Hey! What's going on in there?"

They all look at each other, waiting for the sound of Pierce’s shoes clicking against the tiles. But, when Pierce doesn’t do much more than raise his voice from his office, Barnes huffs and stands up, walking over to the railing. "We can't have any kind of party with Pierce checking us out every other minute. Should close the door.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair in frustration, "The door's s'posed to stay open."

"So?" Barnes jumps up onto the railing.

"So why don't you sit down!” Sam replies, “There're four other people in here trying to write this damn paper, you know."

"Oh, good, you _can_ count." Barnes jumps down from the rails, "I knew you had to be smart to be a...a wrestler?"

"Hey!” Sam snaps, “What gives you the right to judge anybody?"

Sharon mutters, "Honestly,” from besides the boy.

“You know what, Barnes,” Sam continues, “do you count for anything? I mean if you disappeared forever it wouldn't make any difference. I have _friends_ on the wrestling team who would miss me. You may as well not even exist at this school."

Barnes pauses, pain flashing over his features for a second. He doesn't let his emotions out, however. "Maybe I'll just run right out and join the wrestling team, then."

Sam and Sharon look to each other before they burst into laughter at the thought.

Barnes looks to the blonde and adds, "Maybe the prep club too! Student Council-"

"No, no way.” Sam interrupts, “They wouldn't take you."

Barnes fakes a pained expression, "I'm hurt."

Steve turns in his seat and looks back to the obnoxious brunet, "You know why guys like you avoid everything? Avoid joining clubs and friends."

Barnes laughs to himself, and under his breath he responds, "Oh, _this_ should be stunning."

Steve eyes the other when he makes his way to his table, and leans against its edge, "It's 'cause you're afraid."

Barnes, with a tight smile, presses a gloved hand to his chest with mock enthusiasm, "Oh my God! You are just _so_ smart. That's exactly why I'm not heavy in activities!"

"You're a coward!” Steve persists, “You're afraid that they won't take you. You don't belong anywhere, so you just criticize everything!"

“Oh, I see.” Barnes interrupts, his tone hardening, “It wouldn't have anything to do with you 'activities people' being assholes, now would it?"

“You wouldn't fuckin’ know! You don't know any of us!"

"Damn, got a mouth on you, dontcha?"

"Watch your own." Sam jumps in.

Natasha mumbles under her breath, something intelligible. Barnes looks up to her then, mouth pursed in a thin line.

"'Cuse me a sec." He pushes away from the table, "What are you babbling about?"

“Man, leave her alone.” Sam defends, “At least she's minding her own damn business."

Barnes whips his head around to Sam, but doesn't respond. He simply nods and turns back to Steve. "Wait, glasses. Aren't you in the physics club?"

The boy rolls his eyes, "That's an academic club."

"So?"

" _So_ academic clubs aren't the same as other kinds of clubs."

Humming, Barnes looks back to the quiet redhead - whose eyes are dancing around the large room they're trapped in. "Hey, mute," He nods at her. Natasha's eyes dart to him. "You in any of this shit? Besides dancing. Don't think that counts." Natasha doesn't respond to him, her lips pursing together.

Barnes walks around the tables until he gets to the front of hers. "C'mon, you're social, aren't you?" He questions, taking in her outfit for a moment, "Probably demented and sad, but social. Right?"

Natasha watches him carefully, but makes no movements herself - doesn't even flinch when he suddenly tugs out the spare seat besides her and sets himself down. "You got friends, huh?" he continues pestering, leaning his elbow against the surface of her table, "Do you guys party? Drink? Get high?"

Sharon turns in her chair, "Only burners like you get high."

Sam’s eyes are on the hall instead of on Natasha and Barnes, keeping eyes out for a certain Vice Principal. “Look, you guys keep up your talking and Pierce is gonna come in here. I got a meet this Saturday and I'm _not_ gonna miss it!" He warns.

"Oh, and wouldn't that be a pain in the ass!" Barnes lets out a moan of fake agony. "Missing a whole wrestling meet!"

"You don't know how much it means to us!" Sam argues.

“Oh, actually, I think I do. You see, I have such a deep admiration for guys that roll around on the floor with other guys!” Barnes’ mouth quirks up in a light smirk, and he moves away from Natasha’s table. “A lot of experience, too. Not just on a floor, either. Sometimes on a table." His knuckles tap Sam's side of the desk as he passes, "Or a wall." Barnes slows his steps in front of Steve's table again, and he makes the mistake of looking up. Barnes flashes Steve a quick, suggestive smile, "And a pool, once."

Sharon audibly groans from her side of the room, her head falling into her hands. Sam, disgusted, shakes his head, "Do you take anything seriously?”

Looking back to Sam, Barnes’ smile turns smug, "Actually, I do! I have a ton of goals.”

Sam huffs to himself, a hand running down his face as he murmurs, “Oh, really?”

"You see, I wanna be just like you!” Barnes starts again, “I figure all I need's a lobotomy and some tights!"

At the comment, Steve perks up with some interest. He looks to Sam, a light smile on his lips, “You wear tights?"

"No I don't wear tights, I wear the required uniform."

Barnes looks back to Steve, and mouths _‘Tights.’_  Steve’s smile widens. Sam doesn’t miss it, and his face heats up. "Man, stop it!"

That’s when they hear Pierce walking around out in the hall. Barnes quickly moves to sit in the chair besides Steve. He folds his hands on the table. Steve drops his gaze to focus on the paper before him.

They all wait for the familiar clicking, for their vice principal to rush through the door. Instead, after listening to silence for passing minutes, Barnes laughs and gets up. He starts walking towards the double doors that separate the library from the hallway.

"Barnes!” Sharon immediately scolds, “You know there's not supposed to be any fooling around! We'll all get in trouble!"

Barnes pauses, then turns on his heel and points at her. And speaks in a deep, mocking voice, "Young woman, have you finished your paper?"

Sharon responds with a hard look, her eyes narrowed and brows pinched together in her glare. Barnes only snorts and turns back to the door. He looks around cautiously and removes a screw from the door.

"What are you gonna do?" Sharon questions.

Sam whispers besides her, "Drop dead, I hope."

Steve looks up when Barnes continues to mess with the door. "Barnes, that's school property. It doesn't belong to-"

The door suddenly slams shut, cutting off the last of Steve’s words. Barnes snickers and runs back to his seat.

Sam’s voice is shaking some when he speaks, “ _Ha ha,_ that's very funny. Come on, fix it!"

Sharon’s panicking besides him. “Seriously Barnes!"

Barnes leans forward in his seat, a smug grin on his face. "Am I a genius?"

"No, you're an asshole!” Sam frowns, “Fix the door, Barnes!"

The brunet only waves him off, "Everyone, just _shhh_! I've been here before, I know what I'm doing!"

Steve nearly jumps out of his seat, "Barnes!"

He only has time to shush Steve again before they hear Pierce in the hall. And everyone falls deathly silent.

"Goddammit!" Comes his muffled voice, before he opens the door and storms in. "Why is that door closed?"

For a few seconds no one says anything. They all just stare at Pierce with wide eyes.

So, Pierce repeats with a firm tone, "Why is that door closed?"

"How're we s'posed to know?  We're not s'posed to move, right?" Barnes retorts.

Pierce instead turns to Steve.

"Why?"

"We were just sitting here, like we were s'posed to.” He answers, expression innocent.

Pierce turns to look back at Barnes. “Who closed that door?"

"I think a screw fell out of it." Is the boy’s excuse.

“It just closed, sir.” Sam jumps in to defend. He wouldn't put it past Barnes to drop the blame on all of them if he’s caught.

Pierce looks at Natasha, in the back. He walks down the aisle until he reaches her table, placing his palms against its surface as he leans down, repeating the question, " _Who_?"

Natasha's breath hitches, and she lets out a squeak. Then slams her face onto the table, hiding in her jacket hood. Sharon lifts a hand to cover her smile at the girl’s reaction.

Barnes doesn't hide the smirk that crosses his face. Licking his lips, he looks up to Pierce, "She doesn't talk, sir."

Pierce quietly watches the brunet, before outstretches his hand expectantly, "Give me that screw."

Barnes leans back in his seat, his hands shoving into his jeans’ pockets, "I don't have it."

"You want me to yank you outta that seat and shake it out of you?" Pierce suddenly threatens, his patience lost.

Barnes’ easy smile slips off his face, a stoic expression replacing it. "I don't have it." he repeats, his tone uneasily calm. Barnes leans forward some, as if challenging the older man before him when he slowly adds, "Screws fall out all of the time, the world's an imperfect place."

Steve glances over his shoulder back at the two, concern starting to wash over his expression. "Give it to me, Barnes." Pierce repeats.

"Excuse me, sir," Steve's voice pipes up, and Barnes’ gaze tear away from Pierce. The Vice Principle eventually follows, turning his attention to Steve when he continues, "why would anybody want to steal a screw?"

Though it seemed like an innocent question, Pierce didn’t miss the snark behind the words. He lifts a finger to Steve, eyes narrowing as he warns, "Watch your tone, Rogers."

Pierce slowly makes his way back to the door, eyeing each child as he does - as if waiting for any of them to crack. Barnes leans back in his seat, a smile returning to his lips when his gaze catches Steve's. It holds for only a second before Steve turns away.

Pierce, meanwhile, attempts to hold open the library door by putting a folding chair in front of it. Barnes smirks at the weak attempt, "The door's way too heavy, sir."

Glaring Barnes’ way, Pierce walks back into the hall, carefully maneuvering around the makeshift door stop as he leaves. And as if on cue, the entrance slams shut, despite the chair.

All the teens laugh amongst themselves when they hear Pierce curse on the other side, but they wipe their smiles from their faces when he slams back through the door. All for Barnes, however. And Pierce’s eyes are on him in seconds. “I know this is your doing.” He accuses, “You're not fooling anybody, Barnes!"

Barnes’ grin falls immediately as Pierce turns to leave, and words leave his lips in a muttered breath, “ _Dick_..."

Pierce spins in his tracks and faces Barnes again, his eyes wild, “What was that?"

Steve worries his bottom lip, and winces some when Barnes’ voice raises, “You're a _dick_!"

“You just bought yourself another Saturday!"

"Oh, Christ-" Barnes huffs.

"You just got one more right there!"

Barnes’ hands curl into fists. "Well, I'm free the Saturday after that. Beyond that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar!" He retorts, bitter sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Good! ‘Cause it's gonna be filled, we'll keep goin'!” Pierce raises his voice to match Barnes’, “You want another one? Say the word! Instead of going to prison, you'll come here! Are you through?"

"No!" Barnes yells.

“I'm doing society a favor!"

"Oh _please_!"

"That's another one! I've got you for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch yourself! You want another one?"

“ _Hell Yes_!"

"You got it!"

Barnes opens his mouth to continue, anger rising in his blood. But Steve’s voice breaks through their argument. "Cut it out!"

All pairs of eyes snap to the blond except for Pierce’s own, and he mouths _'Stop'_ to Barnes. The brunet feels tension leave his shoulders at Steve’s concern. But it returns when Pierce speaks up again, “You through?"

Barnes tears his eyes from Steve and nearly growls through clenched teeth, "Not even close!"

"Good! You got one more."

"Do you really think I give a shit?"

"Another."

Barnes’ glare is full of fire.

"You done?"

"How many is that?"

"That's seven,” Sharon answers Barnes, her voice soft, “including the one when we first came in. And you asked Mr. Pierce what living with dinosaurs was like."

"Now it's eight." Pierce snaps to Barnes, before looking to the woman a table ahead, "And you stay out of this!" He turns back, “You're mine, Barnes. For two months!"

“What can I say?” Barnes spouts, “I'm thrilled!"

"Oh, I'm sure that's exactly what you want these people to believe.” Pierce nods, waving a hand out to the four students in the room, “You know something, Barnes? You ought to spend a little more time trying to do something with yourself and a little less time trying to impress people. You might be better off.”

Barnes clenches his jaw tight as Pierce turns to the rest of the group, “I'm going to be right outside those doors!"

There's uneasy silence when the VP leaves the room - the doors slamming behind him - until Barnes slams his fist against his table, and screams at the closed door: " _Fuck you!_ "

Steve is the only one to glance back.

* * *

**8:12 AM**

 

Barnes pulls out a pack of matches hidden in his boots. He strikes one against the heel of one, and lights a cigarette he pulls from his jacket’s pocket.

Steve is deep in thought, staring at the wall ahead, until he hears the boy behind him and turns around. His eyes narrow at the sight of the cigarette. Barnes sees him, and takes a long drag from it, maintaining eye contact.

Sam’s playing with his sweatshirt, tugging the strings of the hood from one side to the next.

Sharon and Natasha have begun a mutual game, keeping eye contact with each other until one blinks first.

Steve makes a point to Barnes about the smoke by coughing harshly into his fist. Barnes exhales a breath of smoke he'd been holding, before putting the cigarette out on the table's surface.

Steve turns back to his paper, and picks up his pencil to attempt to write again. But, he ends up drawing nonsense doodles in the margins.

Sam has moved on to playing paper football. He cheers silently for himself when he tosses his paper into the waste bin by the doors.

Sharon blinks first, and Natasha smiles at the victory.

Barnes is the first to fall asleep in his chair. Everyone else follows.

* * *

**9:57 AM**

 

Sam stretches uncomfortably in his seat.  Barnes is tearing pages out of a textbook, and tossing them carelessly to the floor.

Sam leans back in his seat now, watching Barnes for a moment before muttering, " _That's_ real intelligent."

Barnes nods in agreement, pausing as his gloved hand grips the edge of a new page. "You're right. It's wrong to destroy literature." He tears the page out with a satisfying rip. "It's such fun to read. And, Molet really gets me going."

Steve sets his pencil down, the lead down to the nub from use, and corrects, "It's _Mol-yare_."

Barnes drops the book into his lap, giving Steve a pointed look. Sharon speaks up from where her head is resting against her arms, propped up on the table, "I love his work."

Barnes crumbles up the page in his hand and tosses it at her. Sharon looks back after the ball hits the back of her head. "What," He comments, "nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy."

Sam huffs, "Speak for yourself." He shifts back around in his chair, his eyes now resting on the blonde woman besides him. "Hey,” He nudges her gently, “you grounded tonight?"

She shrugs. “I don't know. My mom said I was, but by dad told me to just ignore her."

"There's a big party at Stark's.” Sam smiles, “His parents are in Europe. Should be pretty wild.”

Sharon returns the smile, though it is a big weaker against her lips, "Yeah?"

"Can you go?"

"I doubt it."

"How come?"

"Well, if I do what my mother tells me not to do, it's because because my father says it's okay.” She briefly explains, brushing her hair back as she sits up, “There's, like, this whole big deal. It's endless. Like any minute," She makes an exploding gesture with her hands, "divorce..."

Barnes is tossing another crumbled up, torn page in the air, and catching it - his eyes only on the paper when he asks, "Who do you like better?"

Sharon looks over her shoulder, "What?"

"You like your old man better than your mom?" He attempts to clarify.

“Well,” Sharon pauses, her lips pursing together for a moment, “they're both strict."

"No, I mean,” Barnes drops the paper onto the table, giving her his full attention, “if you had to choose between them."

"I dunno, I'd probably go live with my Aunt.” She answers honestly, “I mean, I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me. It feels like they use me just to get back at each other."

"You're just feeling sorry for yourself.” Sam tries to reason.

"Yeah, well if I didn't nobody else would." She argues.

Sam’s brows pinched together in concern, and he rests a gentle hand on Sharon’s back as he attempts to ease her tension, "Awe, you're breaking my heart."

"Jockey..." He hears Barnes behind him.

With an almost tired exhale, he asks, "What?"

Barnes rises from his seat, "You get along with your parents?"

"Well if I say yes, I'm an idiot, right?" Sam guesses, watching as Barnes makes his way back to the front of his table.

"You're an idiot, anyway.” Barnes grins, “But if you say you get along with your parents, well, you're a liar too.”

Sam’s gentle expression turns irate. When Barnes turns from him, Sam quickly follows and shoves at the brunet’s shoulder roughly.

"You know something, man. If we weren't in school right now, I'd kick your ass into the next fuckin' week." He snaps.

"Oh, I'm absolutely terrified." Barnes taunts.

Steve’s rising from his chair then. He puts a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders, forcing space between them. "Guys-" He starts, but Sam pushes away from them both, turning back to his table.

Letting out a puff of air, Steve hesitates before speaking up, "I have problems with my mom, too. I don't...I don't get along with her all the time. Her idea of parental compassion is just, you know, too much sometimes."

Barnes looks down to Steve, letting the bond’s hand stay where it rested along his arm.

"Punk." Steve’s eyes jump up to him at the sudden nickname. Barnes removes Steve’s hand only to be able to lean down closer. “You are a parents' wet dream, okay?"

"That's the problem!” Steve claims, “She expects too much from me!"

"Look,” Barnes shakes his head, backing away, “I can see you getting all pissed off for her making you wear _those_ kinda clothes. But face it, you're a perfect, beautiful creature! What would you be doing if you weren't out making yourself a better citizen?"

Sam laughs humorlessly, “I think that's the nicest insult you've said today."

“I'm trying to be honest, asshole, not insult him.” Barnes counters, “I would expect you to know the difference."

“You could at least use his name.” Sam reasons. He looks back to Steve with an easy smile, “What's your name?"

"Steve." Comes his quiet reply.

"See.” Sam drops his smile when he looks to Barnes.

Barnes rolls his eyes, and bows to the blond boy mockingly, "My condolences, _sweetheart_." He turns on his heel again, walking back to his table.

"Your name's Sam, right?" Sharon gently nudges the darker boy besides her and pulls his attention from the other boy, “Sam Wilson? I’ve been thinking about all the guys on the wrestling team.”

Sam nods slowly before prodding, “What's yours?"

"Sharon Carter"

"Carter?" Barnes suddenly halts at the familiar title.

"It's a family name-" Sharon starts to defend.

"It's a rich person name.” Barnes interrupts, “A name that demands respect and power.” He pauses, a mischievous grin now on his face, “Two things, you clearly do not have."

Sharon’s eyes narrow to glares, “Fuck you, Barnes!”

"Oh!” He gasps, “Obscene language from such a pristine girl!"

"I'm not _pristine_!"

Barnes bends down closer to Sharon. Neither speak. Bucky is searching her face, looking for something. "You're gay?" This time, Sharon nods firmly. "Are you a virgin?" A beat. "I'll bet a million dollars that you are."

Steve nervously clenches his hands into fists at his sides, “Barnes..."

Barnes looks his way, straightening his posture. “What about you?" He starts, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve tenses. "I know you're a smartass. You draw, and if your _oh-so-important-paper_ is anything to go by, you're very good at it. But what else can we learn about you, _Steve_?" He takes steps closer, and Steve backs up into his desk. Barnes keeps him there. "How about preferences? We know blondie isn't down for what I've got. I think I've made it perfectly clear who I'm interested in. So what about you?" Steve stays silent, averting his gaze from Barnes’.

"I don't know"

"Liar." He immediately calls, placing his hands on either side of Steve, gripping the edge of the table. Steve shrinks back as far as he can, breath hitching in his throat. "C'mon, Stevie." Barnes starts, tilting his head down to level with the blond's. "What would you do if I lifted your head up a little? If I moved in just a little closer..."

Steve's eyes flicker up to Barnes’ for a moment, his head turning just slightly towards the other at the tease. Barnes pretends he doesn't feel the way his heart jumps at the little action. Then:

"Hey, knock it off!" Sam calls out, rising from his seat again. Barnes rolls his eyes, but pushes away from the table, turning around to face Sam.

"I was just fuckin' with him." He defends, leaving Steve to lean up against the table. "Wasn't actually gonna do anything."

"How were we supposed to know that?" Sam argued, and the corners of Barnes’ mouth quirk up in a spiteful grin.

"Sounds like someone's _jealous._ " He comments, and Sam shuts up immediately, his jaw set tight. Barnes glances back to Steve, continuing, "Was just curious about our little punk-"

"Just leave him alone, man." Sam interjects.

Barnes’ manner turns cold, "You gonna make me?"

"I will."

Barnes takes long strides before he’s face to face with the slight shorter boy. “You and how many of your 'friends'?"

Sam only shakes his head, attempting to keep his composure calm, "Don't need Riley or T'Challa here to kick your ass. Just me, just you. Two hits. Me hitting you, you hitting the floor."

Barnes lifts a fist and pulls it back to throw a punch, but Sam is faster. He kicks out Barnes’ legs from under him, and wraps an arm around the brunet’s neck; keeping him in the headlock until Steve calls out, "Sam, stop!"

Sam hesitates for only a beat before he’s letting Barnes go and stepping back. Barnes takes a moment to catch his breath before he rises back to his feet. "That...wasn't real. I didn't actually put up a fight."

Sam’s slightly amused at the other’s defense. "Why not?"

“'Cause I could kill you. It's real simple. I'd kill you and your fucking parents would sue me and it would be a big mess. I don't care enough about you to bother, jockey."

"If you're gonna threaten me then use my name, Barnes."

"I swear to _Christ_ , Wilson. You're going to drive me up a wall."

Both boys begin squaring up against each other again, and Steve stands by - ready to jump in if he needed. But a voice interrupts the second round before it can start: “If you're going to start attacking each other, please do it while I'm not on watch."

Heads turn to the source, and all but one of the five kids are surprised to see the janitor standing by the doors. He regards the group with an unamused look, until his eyes land on a specific redhead. “How did you manage to get stuck with this group, Natasha?" He questions.

The corner of Natasha’s lips turn up in a slight smile, and Barnes looks between the two of them. "You know the janitor?" He questions.

"I know everybody." The other man answers for her.

Barnes looks back to him, his hands moving to disappear in his jean’s pockets again. He treads close enough for his eyes to make out the nametag on the man’s suit. "Uh, Nick, is it?"

“Fury, to you." The elder doesn’t miss a beat.

“Well, Fury, can I ask you a question?" He continues, disregarding his reply, "How does one become a janitor?"

"You planning on becoming a janitor, Barnes?"

“No, no. I just wanna know how one _becomes_ a janitor, because Sam here," He places both hands firmly on Sam's shoulders, which Sam is quick to brush off, "is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts."

Fury holds Barnes’ gaze, seeming almost like a statue until he steps away from the doors. "You think you're funny, James?" Barnes noticeably tenses at the name, "You may be able to drag down everyone else in this school, but I'm a harder pill to swallow. I've been following a broom around after shitheads like you for the past eight years. I've learned a couple of things. I look through your letters, I look through your lockers, I listen to your conversations. I am the eyes and ears of this institution, my friends. It'd be a smart idea to stay on my good side."

Barnes slowly inches back to his table and sits down, stunned by the older man's words.

Fury shifts were he stands, his smile smug as he glances up to the clock against the wall. "By the way," he concludes, turning back to the door, "that clock's twenty minutes fast. Natasha knew that."

Everyone groans.

* * *

**10:58 AM**

 

Silence hasn’t left the library since Fury’s departure. Barnes sits on the edge of his seat, tapping his fingers to an unsteady beat on his table. Then, as he eyes the other kids in front of him, he starts to whistle a marching tune.

No one responds at first, but after a few seconds Steve joins in. And Sam after him. Sharon follows. They keep the song going until Pierce enters. Everyone quickly shuts up. Barnes, however, begins to whistle the Imperial March the closer Pierce comes.

"All right.” He disregards Barnes. “There’s thirty minutes for lunch."

"Here?" Sam asks.

"Here."

“Well,” Sam shifts some, “I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place for us to eat lunch in-"

"Well, I don't care what you think, Wilson." Pierce crosses his arms. Sam clenches his jaw shut.

"Uh, Alex?” Barnes speaks up, seeing the other boy’s shoulders hunch, “Excuse me, Alexander, will milk be made available to us?"

Steve snickers in his seat. Sam fights back a smile at the other’s cocky tone. And though he avoids Pierce’s gaze, he plays along, "We're extremely thirsty, sir."

Sharon has to bite her lower lip to stop her smile. "I have a very low tolerance for dehydration." She joins in.

"I've seen her dehydrate sir,” Sam looks Sharon’s way, “it's pretty gross."

Then Barnes is standing, announcing, "Relax, I'll get it!"

Pierce quickly scolds the action, " _No_ , no. Sit right back down, Barnes."

Barnes grins, but does so.

"What do you think, I was born yesterday?” Pierce accuses, “You think I'm just gonna have you roaming these halls?"

The older man points at Sharon. "You," Then he points to Natasha - who had taken the silence after Fury had left to nap, "And her! What's her name? Wake her up!”

Barnes is the one to lean over and smack Natasha’s arm, laughing some when she jolts awake. “Come on, on your feet! This is no rest home!"

Natasha gets up, eyeing Sharon with confusion as the blonde rises, too. "There's a soft drink machine in the teacher's lounge. Let’s go!"

* * *

**11:04 AM**

 

Sharon and Natasha walk side by side down the hall, Pierce several strides ahead of them.

Sharon leans towards the other girl, and in a hushed voice asks, "So, what do you drink?"

Natasha doesn't answer. Frowning, Sharon looks ahead, "Okay. Forget I asked."

Natasha waits for two beats and then answers, "Vodka."

Sharon’s eyes immediately jump back to her. “Vodka? When do you drink vodka?"

"Whenever."

“A lot?"

Natasha smiles. "Tons."

"Is that why you're here today?" Natasha doesn't answer. Still, Sharon persists, "Why are you here?"

"Why are _you_ here?" Natasha snaps back.

They stop walking, Pierce's footsteps still continuing down the hall as Natasha leans against the wall.

Pursing her lips together, Sharon glances back down the hall, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "Um, I'm here today because," She rambles, "because I skipped class to go to the mall."

Natasha smirks. "Yeah? That's very interesting. Now why don't you tell me why you're really in here."

Sharon frowns at the other’s distrust. “Forget it." She shakes her head, turning away from Natasha to start back down the hall, picking up her pace to catch up with Pierce. Natasha follows at a leisurely pace.

* * *

**11:10 AM**

 

Barnes, Sam, and Steve had all moved from their tables and gathered on the second level of the library as they waited for the others to return with drinks.

“Hey, jockey.” Barnes is the first to start a conversation, kicking at Sam’s knee from his place on the library’s ladder. “This morning when you started your paper, what did you call yourself?”

Sam watches Barnes uneasily before he answers, “A falcon.”

“So you like birds?” Sam doesn’t respond immediately, so Barnes continues, “Do you _love_ birds?” Sam gives the other a slightly annoyed expression. “Won’t that make you a furry?”

Sam rolls his eyes and turns away in disgust. "I'm gonna go someplace away from you." He announces, before he's up on his feet and heading down towards the aisles of books. Barnes leans back against the ladder's steps, his eyes resting on Steve. He's already busying himself with a new sheet of paper - one that was on Natasha's desk.

Barnes watches his hands move across the sheet, flowing lines beginning to litter the top margin, before he lifts his leg up to nudge Steve's shoulder with his boot. "Hey, glasses," he murmurs, and Steve only acknowledges him with a soft hum from the back of his throat, "would you ever consider dating a guy like Sam?"

Ducking his head some at the question, Steve's gaze hardens on the paper before him, biting out, "Can you leave me alone?”

"I mean, if he had a better personality, or was a good dancer, and had a cool car-"

Steve drops his pencil and lifts his head up to face Barnes as he interrupts, "You know what I wish I was doing?"

Chuckling, Barnes looks to his right, watching Sam disappear down one of the aisles of books before he replied, "Watch what you say, Sam may hear you."

"I wish I was on a plane to France. Or Germany. Anywhere out of this room."

Steve’s answer to his own question catches Barnes slightly off guard. His head whips back to Steve, whose gaze had already dropped back to his paper. Steve only picks it up, though; he doesn't resume drawing. Silence falls between them, and Barnes shifts uncomfortably where he sits.

"...I wish I was getting laid, right now." He blurts when unease starts settling in his stomach. When Steve looks back up to him with a quizzical look, Barnes attempts to fake an easy smile, "Sorry. Forgot you're too _'innocent'_ to hear that."

Steve's expression goes hard. "I'm not that innocent."

Barnes leans forward some, his elbows resting on his knees. "Oh?" He hums with amusement, "You've ever gotten laid?"

Clenching his jaw, Steve lifts his chin up some to defend, "I've laid. Lotsa times!"

His forced smile being replaced with a mischievous smirk, Barnes challenges, "Name one person you’ve slept with!"

Steve tries to hold the other's gaze, but drops it almost immediately when he lies, "She...She lives in Canada. Met her at Niagara Falls. You wouldn't know her."

"So, it's ' _hers_ ' that you're interested in." Barnes nods, his tone almost sounding disappointed. Steve opens his mouth to respond. But Barnes is already adding, "Ever laid anyone around here?"

That's when Steve's eyes dart to Sam, who's already making his way back to the couple, and he shushes Barnes immediately. Barnes takes it as a hint, and jumps to his feet as he exclaims, "You and Sam did it!"

Sam stops in his tracks. "What are you talking about?"

Steve stands up, shaking his hands frantically at Barnes as he tries to argue, "Nothin'! Wasn't anything!"

But Barnes’ voice still drowns him out. "You got a _girl_ in Canada and a _guy_ here? What, do your sexualities change per country?"

Barnes’ words only confuse Sam further, who's turned his attention to Steve completely, "What's he rambling about?"

"Nothing, we weren't talking about _anything_." Steve argues, looking up to Barnes when he looks ready to make another comment. That's when he sends a fist directly into Barnes’ chest. The force doesn't knock him over - it's the mere surprise that has him tumbling back onto the ladder when Steve harshly warns, " _Drop it_ , Barnes."

Silence follows his words. Sam attempts to ease tensions, "I would ask what happened again, but I don't wanna get hit."

Barnes’ gaze is still stuck on Steve, his mouth slightly agape. He had called Steve gorgeous before, and meant it. But to see him now with his hands still rolled up into fists, ready for a fight. _Angry_. Barnes had to place his hand on his chest to reassure that his heart was still beating. He was worried it was about to stop.

However, even through his daze, Barnes still registered Sam's words. And he was speaking despite himself, "Steve said you two were a thing."

Steve's demeanor changes completely at Barnes' words, and he turns to Sam with his arms outstretched. "No! I didn't _say_ that-"

"You gestured to 'im!" Barnes quickly counters, just to get a heated glare from Steve.

"I didn't want to have this kinda talk in front of him!"

"Why not? Ain't nothing bad about it."

" _Barnes_."

"Steve, what's wrong with him knowing-"

"Because I lied!" Steve raises his voice with the confession, and Barnes is sure his heart _does_ stop for a moment. "I didn't," The blond starts again, his shoulders slumped forward as if in defeat, "I didn't want you know I was a virgin."

Sam is looking to Barnes, now - and they seem to share one brief, rare moment of agreement. "Steve," Sam speaks, his tone softer than it had been previously, "why didn't you want me to know?"

Steve is sitting himself down when Sam asks the question, his fingers reaching to roll his forgotten pencil back into his palm. "Because," He breathes, "it's personal business. It's my personal, private business."

Sam is unsure of what to say. So he stays smart, and doesn't say anything. Barnes stands, his mouth opening once in hopes he could attempt to lighten Steve's mood. But he decides against the notion, and simply steps down from the ladder. Sam watches Barnes for only a second before he's moving to walk back down to his table - his hand gently brushing over Steve's shoulders as he does so. A silent apology is how Steve takes it.

Barnes stays with the blond for minutes passing, until they can hear pairs of footsteps clicking their way down the hall. Steve stands on his own, but Barnes kneels down to pick up the paper he left behind, offering it back. Steve only stares at first, but eventually takes it from Barnes’ hands.

They manage to hold each other's gaze before Steve is turning away to get back to his seat. Barnes doesn't have the chance to apologize for crossing a line.

* * *

**11:30 AM**

 

Everyone’s back in their respective seats by the time Pierce leaves them alone once more.

Sharon begins to pull a take-out box from a small shopping bag. Barnes is leaning over his table when he asks, "What's in there?"

"Take a guess." She answers. She sets the box on her tabletop, then glances at him over her shoulder. "Where's your lunch?"

Barnes gives her a smug grin. "I don't eat. Got a figure to keep."

Rolling her eyes, Sharon turns her back to him, opening her box. "You're horrid." She insults. For once, Barnes doesn't retort. Instead, he takes his coke and tosses it over in Natasha's direction. She catches it without even looking up.

Barnes then looks back Sharon's way, an eyebrow rising when she begins setting food out in front of her. "Good God, what's that?" He mutters out. Sharon doesn't spare him a glance this time.

"Sushi."

"Sushi?"

"You know, rice, raw fish, and seaweed."

Barnes winces back at the explanation, faking a gagging noise. "You won't accept a guy's tongue in your mouth, but you're gonna eat _that_?"

Sharon bites on in the inside of her cheek to avoid snapping. "Can I eat?"

Barnes is shrugging in reply, eyeing the food suspiciously. "I don't know. Give it a try."

Sam's taking a couple sandwiches out of his bag, followed by an apple, a banana, and a carton of milk. Barnes smiles at the collection, teasing, "Got enough protein there, jockey?"

Like Sharon, Sam pays him no mind. They only turn in their seats when there's the crack of a can opening, followed by the clear fizzing of soda. Natasha pays no mind to the mess, but when she notices the two watching her, she lifts her hand to her mouth and loudly slurps the fizzed drink off her fingers. Sam turns right back around, but Sharon cracks a small grin. Natasha returns it before she hides her lips behind the can.

When Sam stands to toss his trash away, he notes that Barnes’ current gaze leads to Steve. Purposely moving to block him out of Barnes’ line of sight, he comments, "What're you looking at?"

Sam considers Barnes smart for not responding.

Natasha opens a zip-lock bag, removing the sandwich within. She pulls the bread apart, then picks the meal apart. When she tosses the meat up over her head, she smiles as it lands on the sculpture towering behind their tables.

Barnes suddenly stands, and moves over to sit in the empty seat besides Steve. He can feel Sam's eyes on him, but he doesn't give the other man any sign that he's aware of prying glances. Instead, he leans over some, trying to peek into Steve’s bagged lunch, "What're we having?"

Steve only shrugs his shoulders, looking into the bag's opening. "It's your standard, regular lunch I guess." He starts, before he's reaching in and pulling out a thermos.

Barnes points to it, guessing, "Milk?"

"Soup." Steve corrects, pulling out more supplies from the bag. When Barnes reaches for a juice box, Steve is quick to slap at his hand. It's light though, and Barnes thinks he catches just a glimpse of a smile on the other's lips.

"That's apple juice." Steve explains, and Barnes lets out a breathless laugh.

"I can read it." He responds, taking in the rest of Steve's food. "PB and J? Well, Stevie, this is a very nutritious lunch. _All_ the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rogers?"

That entices the laughter Barnes wanted rumbling out from Steve's chest. "She married _a_ Mr. Rogers." He responds once his giggling fit passes, though a smile sticks to his face. And it makes Barnes’ chest swell a bit, proud he could replace the frown he had inflicted.

They smile at each other, until Barnes catches Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam's gaze hardens, and he mouths _'move'._  Falling back into his act, Barnes immediately rises from his seat. Moving to the front of the room, in sight of the four kids, he announces, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, here's my impression of life at Mr. Wilson's house..."

Sam crosses his arms, already unamused. Regardless, Barnes clears his throat, his voice alternating between a lower and higher pitched tone as he acted out a conversation:

"Son!

Yeah Dad?

How's your day, pal?

Great Dad, how's yours?

Super! Say son, how'd you like to go fishing this weekend?

Great Dad, but I've got homework to do!

That's alright son, you can do it...on the boat!"

The fake interactions do pull a soft bit of laughter from both Sharon and Steve, and even Sam can't stop himself from smiling at the ridiculous scenario. Natasha is looking down to keep herself from laughing. Barnes continues, his voice moving up an octave in mock of a female voice:              

"Mrs. Wilson, isn't our son swell?

Yes Dear, isn't life swell?"

He mimes mother kissing father and then father kissing mother. Then father punching mother in the face.

Suddenly, it's not so funny anymore.

Sharon's smile falls immediately, and Steve's eyes dart to Sam as the other man rises to his feet. Barnes doesn't flinch. "You gonna try and wrestle me down, again?" He taunts, though neither boy makes the move to fight.

Instead Sam challenges, "Alright, what about your family?"

"Oh, mine?" Barnes laughs bitterly, "That's real easy!"

Moving back to his original stance, Barnes stands stiff and points forward, ignoring the sting in his eyes as he spouts out:

"Stupid, worthless, no good, Goddamned, freeloading son of a bitch! Bigmouth, know it all, asshole, _jerk_!"

Steve looks to Barnes with horror clear in his eyes, and Sam deflates.

"No wonder your mother took Rebecca when she left!" Barnes continues, voice cracking as he spits out his sister’s name. But, he still doesn't stop:

"What about you, Dad?

Fuck you!

No, Dad, what about you?

Fuck you!"

Steve's out of his seat when Barnes’ voice rises to the point of screams.

"No, Dad! What. About. You!

Fuck _you_!"

He reaches out and pretends he's his father hitting him. Eerie silence falls over the library once Barnes is finished. He shuts his eyes tight, willing away tears he can feel. He doesn't see Steve reach out for him.

"...Is that real?" Sharon mutters, her voice shaking some in fear.

Barnes lifts a hand to rub furiously at his eyes before he looks at the blonde, snapping, "You wanna come over sometime?"

"How-" Sam starts, though his legs feel weak when Barnes glares his way. He drops back into his seat before he continues, "How do we know that's not bullshit? An act?"

When pain begins to etch into his expression, Barnes can't will it away this time. "You don't believe me?"

Sam doesn't respond, but Barnes takes his silence as _'No_.' He wanders over to Sam’s side, and rolls up his left sleeve up, ripping the glove off his hand to reveal multiple scarring wounds and bruises that continue beneath his sleeve. It’s as if he'd been attacked by an animal.

"Do you believe this? Huh?" He questions, words dripping with venom. Sam has to turn away from the sight. "This is what you get in my house when you're nothing but a fuck up." Barnes adds, before shoving the sleeve back down. Sharon is covering her mouth with her hands, avoiding looking Barnes’ direction.

He turns away from their table, glimpsing at Natasha - but her focus is on wall directly ahead of her, her lips pursed tightly together and eyes red. Steve's eyes are the only ones that meet his own. But Barnes ducks away from him and turns back down the aisle, pulling his glove back over his left hand. He pauses in front of his desk, his jaw tight before he's shaking his head.

"I don't need to sit with any of you." Barnes mutters, almost to himself as walks over to a map table and throws all it’s contents on the floor. He climbs up on top of the table and then up to the second floor balcony of the library.

Steve watches him go, but when he can no longer see Barnes’ form, he frowns at Sam. "You shouldn't have said that."

"How was I gonna know! He lies about everything else!" Sam defends, but his head is in his hands as he tries to will the scene from his mind.

* * *

**12:30 PM**

 

"Do you know where Pierce went?"

It's a question Steve really should've asked before Barnes was gathering the group to follow him out the library doors. Especially given that Barnes’ answer is, "Nope."

Barnes isn't in the same mood he had been most of the morning. He hasn't smiled easy, or cracked any insults anyone's way - not since lunch. But it's clear that just about everyone is doing their best to avoid that subject and forget the conversation had occurred.

Sharon even jabs at Barnes with, "Well then, how do you know when he'll be back?"

When Barnes smiles at her, it's forced. But only Steve can seem to tell that. "I don't. Being bad feels pretty good, huh? I know it’s no France, but we’re out of the room."

Sharon just rolls her eyes, slowing her steps to hang back with Sam and Natasha. "What's the point in going to Barnes' locker?" Sam questions.

Natasha is the only one to respond. Though, her words do very little to help: "Beats me."

Sam lets out a long sigh passed his lips, glancing down the halls they pass. "This is ridiculous." He mutters, looking back to the two women besides him, "Why do you think? Why are we risking getting caught?"

Again comes Natasha's unhelpful reply, "I dunno."

Sam groans. "So then what are we doing?"

Natasha halts her steps, and Sam stops with her in hopes she may have an answer. Instead, she threatens, "You ask me one more question and I'm hitting you."

Sam is stunned in place at the cold, unnerving tone the redhead had. Sharon only laughs before she's following after Steve and Barnes.

* * *

**12:37 PM**

 

When Barnes opens his locker, Sharon all but jumps back. "Jesus," She curses, "have you ever heard of _cleaning_?"

Unamused, Barnes deadpans, "My maid's on vacation." He reaches far back into his locker, shuffling around before he pulls out a bag. Sam's mouth fall open.

"Drugs?" Sharon gasps, and Steve is grabbing onto Barnes’ arm.

"Put it back!" He warns, but Barnes just shrugs him off and turns to walk. The blond is right after him.

"That boy had marijuana." Sam mutters - more or less, to himself. Sharon looks between the locker and the retreating boys before she hesitantly turns to follow them. Sam looks to Natasha, who is standing besides him with wide eyes. "Do you approve of this?" He asks her. She only watches him for a moment before she's turning on her heel to catch up with the three retreating bodies. Sam has no choice but to follow.

"We'll cross through the lab, and then we'll double back." Barnes is instructing by the time Sam's caught up.

"You better be right," Sam replies, glaring daggers into the older boy’s back, "if Pierce cuts us off it's your fault!"

Barnes looks over his shoulder to respond, to ease Sam's worries, but Steve's halting and pressing his hand against Barnes’ chest - efficiently stopping the rest of the group. All Steve can manage is a whispered, " _Shit_ ,” before they all see Pierce down the hall.

Barnes grabs Steve's hand and mutters, “Split!"

So the group disperses - Natasha grabbing Sharon's wrist and darting down the hall they had come from, Barnes and Steve hurrying down the nearest hall to their right. Sam jumps between who to follow until Pierce is turning down the hall, his eyes on a phone in his hand. It provides Sam enough of a distraction to run after Steve and Barnes.

Barnes drags Steve close behind him as they move down their hall, trying to keep close to the wall in hopes that if Pierce glanced down there way, he wouldn't notice them. Barnes is so focused on getting them out of plain sight, that when there's a hand on his shoulder, he's moving Steve behind him. He's ready to talk his way out of trouble; he doesn't want Steve getting caught, though.

Thankfully - he can't believe he's thankful - it's only Sam. A very pissed off, out of breath Sam. "The hell, man?" He hisses out, and Barnes almost falls against the wall.

"You scared the shit outta me! Don't do that while we're on the run!" Barnes whispers to him.

"It's your fault we’re on the run! You better know how to fix this." Sam’s warning, and Barnes opens his mouth to retort. But then Steve's shoving passed them both to continue down the hallway, moving faster than Barnes has ever seen the guy go. He doesn't have to look back down the hall to know Pierce is there.

While Barnes follows Steve straight down, Sam runs with them up until there's another hallway opening. And while Sam darts down that way, the remaining two runaways skid to a halt when they find themselves in the cafeteria.

Steve pauses to look around at the empty chairs and tables, muttering, "It looks so different."

But Barnes doesn't wait around for Steve to finish his sentence, already moving across the room to get to the stall that would normally be stocked with trays and food. Barnes has jumped over the countertop to the otherside by the time Steve reaches him. And though Steve attempts to do the same, Barnes can see the approaching shadow of Pierce. So he reaches over and picks Steve right up, dragging him over.

When they both duck down, hiding behind the platform, Barnes notes how erratic Steve's breathing has become - uneven and shaking. But the clicking of Pierce's shoes against the tile floor of the cafeteria drives Barnes’ hand up to cover Steve's mouth. Steve would give them away if Pierce got close enough to hear him.

When the blond looks up at him, ocean eyes wide and bright, Barnes only presses his forefinger to his own lips. _Quiet_. Steve's breathing doesn't get better the louder the footsteps become. But it doesn't become worse, either. When the steps on the other side of their hideout pause, Barnes presses himself further against the counter, Steve shuffling closer out of fear of being seen.

There's only silence as minutes drag pass, but Barnes never looks up. Too afraid to see Pierce's disgustingly smug grin. So he finds comfort in Steve's eyes, letting the little contact they currently have ground him.

Steve finds his fears pushed back, distant but not forgotten, while he keeps his gaze on Barnes. Focuses on trying to figure out the colors in his eyes rather than on the harsh footsteps that inch closer to finding them.

They have just each other, behind this counter. They will get caught together. Be punished together. And for now, all they want to focus on is each other.

* * *

**12:39 PM**

 

Unsurprisingly, finding a hide out in a hallway isn't easy. Sharon points this out multiple times as Natasha leads them down the winding halls of their school. Natasha, also unsurprisingly, doesn't listen to her.

"Let's just turn around, find the boys, and get back to the library! We'll get there faster as a group than split up!" She tried insisting, her voice hushed yet harsh.

Natasha paused her steps as they came to another hall opening. Peaking over the side, she made sure it was clear before moving to drag Sharon across the rest of the hall with her - the grip she has on Sharon’s wrist unyielding.

"Listen, um-"

"Natasha."

"Natasha, right." Sharon digs her heels in to at least falter the redhead from moving any farther. It's enough to get Natasha to face her, her expression chilling. "Look, I know you're afraid of getting caught, but _need_ to go find-"

Sharon figured her opinion was logical, figured that she could talk a little sense into this quiet, mysterious woman before her. But her words are forcefully ceased when she’s shoved back, hitting the cold brick of the wall. Natasha's hand is firmly against her stomach to keep her there.

“What're you-?" She starts, but Natasha halts her words again. This time, by just covering her hand over Sharon's mouth.

"Shut up." She murmurs, low and soft. Sharon attempts to speak up, her words a muffled mess behind Natasha's hand. So the redhead stepped closer, applying more pressure against the younger woman's mouth. It shuts Sharon up quick.

“I saw someone." Natasha says, "Down the hall. So shut. _Up_. Understand?"

Sharon can only nod with her ability to vocalize her acknowledgement being denied. Natasha removes her hand quickly afterwards. Yet, she didn't step back or remove the hand against the blonde's stomach. Sharon understood they were hiding, but did Natasha have to stay so close?

However, any plan she may have been forming in order to explain this was pulverized and left to disappear with the rest of Sharon's thoughts when her eyes focused with the other woman’s.

She had noted how bright they had been back in the library earlier that morning, during their short-lived game. But, they hadn't been this close; Not close enough for Sharon to see the gentle flecks of brown that scattered against Natasha's bright green gaze. Not close enough that she could just barely see the darker spots of freckles that littered over Natasha's cheeks and nose.

Never this close.

* * *

**12:45 PM**

 

Steve is positive there wasn’t a previous moment in his life that dragged on longer than right then. His heart felt like it was going to burst, and though he took comfort in the fact that he wasn't alone - nor in bad company - it didn't help the fact that his lungs felt like they weren't going to stop constricting in on themselves any time soon.

His situation didn't feel real: Being trapped behind a lunch counter with a man holding _very_ illegal substances wasn't something Steve thought he'd experience. The stress of getting caught was having an effect on him - he thought he would start sobbing when the tapping of shoes against tile finally began drifting further away.

When Barnes removed his hand from Steve's mouth, he breathed in deep, trying to force as much air as he could into his disapproving lungs.

Barnes pushed away from the stall to avoid slamming his head against the bottom of the counter top when he finally looked up, scanning the room for any sign of life. The relief that seemed to lift from his shoulders when he found themselves alone lasted perhaps a second before he dropped back down, concern tugging at his heart when he got a better look at Steve.

"Okay, what's happening? Are you dying?" He questions, reaching a hesitant hand out to rest it against Steve's shoulder. But Barnes winces and pulls away at the horrid wheeze Steve let out as he attempts to breathe out on his own. "Please don't be dying."

It takes Steve several attempts before his voice decides to grant him mercy and work, allowing him to reassure, "’M fine. Just got worked up. I gotta...I need to..." _Breathe_. Steve just needed to breathe.

It was easier said than done.

Barnes hung back though, staying against his little area of the stall as he watched Steve struggle. Until he simply couldn't stand it.

When he reaches forward to take Steve's arm, the blond barely has time to register _why_ before his palm is pressing against Barnes’ chest. He could feel the other's heartbeat even through the layers of his clothes. And when Steve tilts his head some with confusion and looks to Barnes for an explanation, he provides, "Breathe with me."

Steve hadn't noticed the rhythm Barnes had set until he gave the command. Steve felt every inhale, every time Barnes breathed out. It was a slow pace, meant for Steve to mimic. So he did as he was told, forcing air in when he felt Barnes’ chest expand, and wheezing that air back out when Barnes did so.

In the past, Steve hadn't had anyone help him through an asthma attack; the only assistance he would often receive was someone else shoving his inhaler into his hand before leaving him to struggle.

Having someone there during an attack alone wouldn't have helped him much, in the past. But now, Steve was surprised to find his recovery time increase. Following Barnes’ command helped him set a pace his lungs could follow until they finally cooperated again, his breathing evening out only a few minutes later.

Barnes visibly relaxed when he noticed; however, he didn't let Steve's hand fall from where it lied on his chest. Even after Steve had reassured he could breathe, Barnes kept his grip on his arm.

Steve wasn't against it.

Just like he wasn't against Barnes moving in as close like he did. He wasn't against Barnes shifting Steve's hand away from his chest in order to hold it in his own. Wasn't against the way his eyes seemed to soften, and how the little reaction alone almost made Barnes appear younger.

And he wouldn't have been against it if Barnes had leaned down just a little more, invaded the gap between them.

Steve _was_ against the pair of legs that suddenly swung down in front of them. And Barnes pulling away so fast his head slammed up against the bottom of the counter, his hands coming up to cover his head.

When Sam knelt down, his smile was wide and conceited. All Barnes had to say to him was, “Fuckin’ _asshole_ ," but the groan behind the words made it barely audible.

"I'm sorry," Sam teased, "did I frighten you, Barnes?"

"Sam," Steve huffed, moving out from under the counter, "what are you doing here?"

The other man wasted no time getting back to his feet, a smile still playing on his lips as he watched Barnes crawl out after Steve. "I was gonna ask you the same thing."

"We were hiding." Barnes slurs out a response, gripping onto the counter to help himself up, his other hand still pressing firmly against the back of his head, "Where the fuck did you go?"

"Thought I could find Sharon and Natasha." Sam answered, taking a step back to give the brunet room when he stood, "But my hall came to a dead end. So I turned around and came to find you guys. Heard you talking when I walked in."

Barnes dropped his hand from his head, and Sam’s smile fell. “Guys, Pierce is _definitely_ suspicious by now. We need to get back to the library."

“We gotta find the girls, first." Steve added, looking to Barnes. All three boys looked down the hall, knowing full well that heading back down that direction could mean getting caught.

“Well.” Barnes let out a long exhale, forcing a smile, “We should get a move on, then."

* * *

**12:49 PM**

 

And of course, their moment is ruined. Anything Sharon may have begun to think - no, _dream_ \- of was crushed when a shadow crossed over them. Natasha was fast, getting to the opposite wall in seconds flat when they turned to see the source. But the defensive stance both women had put themselves in was deemed unnecessary fairly quick.

"Romanov." Fury greeted the two. Sharon nearly collapsed against the wall, more than relieved to see a somewhat friendly face. "I would ask what you two are doing out of the library, but I can come to a few conclusions." The elder hummed, his gaze moving to the blonde.

"Blame Barnes.” Sharon quickly justifies, “We were heading back, but when we saw Pierce we all split."

Fury looks between the two girls, hands moving to cross over his chest again. Then, after a moment of thought, he spoke, "Go down your hall and take the first left. It will lead you towards the cafeteria. Last I saw, Wilson was down that way."

* * *

**12:54 PM**

 

Fury's directions are accurate. When Natasha and Sharon start making their way down the first hallway on their left, Sam, Barnes, and Steve are racing down the hall directly across. The group nearly collides together when they rush towards each other.

"Where've you been?" Sam goes to question, but Barnes is moving him aside.

"Explain later. We all need to get back to the library before Pierce gets there." He warns, and Sharon's nodding in agreement.

"We can go back down the way we came-" She starts, and Natasha's reaching for her hand to start leading the way.

"Wait! _Wait_ , hold it! We have to go back through the cafeteria!" Barnes grabs onto Natasha's arm before she can get too far - though he drops contact the moment she takes a step towards him.

Sam's stepping between them to argue, "No, the activities hall is the safer route!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Barnes immediately argues.

"No, you don't know what _you're_ talking about!"

“Guys!” Steve attempts to break them up - now was the worst time to be raising voices and starting fights. Sam ignores the blond’s attempts.

“We're all through listening to you, we're going this way." He tells the boy before him, shoving past Barnes’ shoulder to lead the group. They don't get very far.

Going down Sam's way has them running into a hall closed off by an iron gate.

“Shit!" Sam curses, slamming his palm against the gate.

"Told you." Barnes retorts.

“Fuck you!"

“ _Guys_ , stop it!" Steve interrupts, standing in between both men again.

Sharon takes a step away from the gate, her head turning to look down the halls surrounding them, "God, we're dead!"

Barnes watches the blonde panic, Sam and Steve joining her in looking down the halls for any sign of their Vice Principal. Then, he comes to a decision. "No, not us. Just me."

Steve’s spinning around. " _What_?"

"Get back to the library, all of you.” Barnes orders, taking a step towards Steve, “And keep your unit on this.”

Barnes tugs Steve closer to himself to shove the bag of drugs down the blond's pants. When Steve goes bright red and glares, Barnes only smiles and says, "Pierce won't look down there."

Then he's running back down the hall, singing loudly to draw attention solely to himself, pounding his hands against the lockers he passes for good measure.

The rest of them run - Sam grabbing Steve's arm when he only stands and stares.

* * *

**1:12 PM**

 

When Pierce finds Barnes, he's in the school's gym. Barnes knows when he enters - the slamming of the gym doors and familiar clicking of Pierce's shoes giving him away. But the brunet doesn't pay him any mind. He just rolls a basketball in his hands as he goes up for a basket.

"Three, two, one!" He shouts, voice echoing throughout the room as he dunks the ball into a hoop.

"Barnes! Barnes!" Pierce calls from where he stands, hands on his hips, "What is this? What are you doing here?"

When Barnes spares him a glance, he only grins - wide and full of teeth. And not at all friendly. "Oh, hey!" He greets, retrieving the ball from where he bounces against the floor.

Pierce points to the doors when Barnes looks to him, "Out, Barnes! Out, it's over!"

Barnes rolls the ball in his hands again, taking a few steps back from the hoop, "Don't you wanna hear my excuse?"

"Out!" Comes Pierce's furious voice.

"I'm thinking of trying out for a scholarship." Barnes continues anyways, looking up at the hoop as he lines up for another shot, "Or maybe the army. They give you money if you waste a few years of your life with them, right?"

Pierce stands under the hoop before Barnes gets the chance to throw the ball again, "Give me the ball, Barnes."

He fakes the ball at Pierce, who ducks down. Then, he simply sets the ball down and rolls it at Pierce who kicks it back at him. When Barnes heads towards the doors Pierce is right behind, pushing him along.

* * *

**1:26 PM**

 

The rest of the group’s back at their tables when Barnes and Pierce enter. Steve almost smiles until Pierce shoves Barnes forward, commanding, "Get your stuff, let's go!"

When Pierce looks to the rest of the kids, they all tense in their seats, "Mr. Barnes had taken it upon himself to go to the gymnasium. I'm sorry to say, but you're going to be without his services for the rest of the day."

No one seems happy at the news. But, Barnes laughs out loud as he’s gathering his jacket from the table - the sound bitter.

Pierce narrows his eyes at the brunet. "Everything's a big joke, Barnes?" He snaps, "Like the false alarm you pulled, what, Friday? False alarms are really funny, aren't they? What if your home, what if your family..." He pauses for a beat, before correcting, "What if your drugs were on fire?"

Barnes purses his lips together, before smiling. All teeth. "Impossible, sir. It's in Rogers’ underwear."

Sam laughs.

Pierce turns right to him, "You think he's funny? You think this is _cute_?" Sam leans back in his seat when Pierce stands in front of his table, glaring down at him, "Look at him. You want to end up like him, Wilson?" When Pierce looks up, everyone averts their gaze. Everyone but Barnes. "You wanna see something funny? You go visit James Barnes in five years! You'll see how God damned funny he is!"

When Barnes’ shoulders tense and his jaw tightens, Pierce doesn't miss it. "What's the matter, James?" He mocks, "You gonna cry?"

When Barnes looks down, it's only to keep Pierce from seeing the red rims around his eyes. He makes his way back up the aisle, but Pierce grabs his shoulder as he passes. Barnes is quick to shove his hand away. "Keep your fuckin' hands off me!" He nearly shouts. It has Steve gripping the edge of his table tight enough to make his knuckles white. The two men stare each other down, until Barnes finally mutters, "I expect better manners from you, _Alexander_."

When Barnes moves by Pierce again, the older man doesn't touch him. He pauses in front of Sam's seat, and takes his sunglasses out of his jacket’s pocket to lay them upon the table.

"For better hallway vision." He informs - but there's no venom behind his words when he speaks to Sam.

Barnes leaves the room before Pierce can catch up, shoving over anything in his line of sight along the way. Pierce acts like he can't feel the four pairs of eyes glaring daggers into his back when he follows.

* * *

**1:50 PM**

 

A closet isn't exactly where Barnes was expecting to end up. But that's where Pierce shoves him into, the door only cracked open behind him. The push Pierce gives him is just forceful enough to have him trip on his feet and land on his side against the hard floor below.

"That's the last time, Barnes." The older man grinds out through his teeth, "That's the last time you ever make me look bad in front of those kids, do you hear me? I make thousands of dollars a year, and I have a home, and I'm not about to throw it away because of some punk like you. Someday, James, someday when you're outta here and you've forgotten all about this place, and they've forgotten all about you, and you're wrapped up in your own pathetic life, I'm gonna be there. And I'm gonna kick the living shit out of you!"

Barnes’ face is stoic through Pierce's tantrum, and voice monotone when he deadpans, "Are you threatening me?"

"What're you gonna do about it?" Pierce snaps back, "You think anybody's gonna believe you? You think anybody's gonna take your word over mine? I'm a man of respect around here. They love me around here. You're a lying sack of shit, and everybody knows it!" When Barnes’ stare turns cold, Pierce only laughs harshly. "Oh, you're a real tough guy, aren't you? Come on, get on your feet! Let's find out how tough you are! I'll give you the first punch! That's all I need, just one swing!"

But Barnes just sits there, staring up at him. When Pierce raises a hand, as if to hit him, Barnes flinches. "That's what I thought. One of these days you’ll learn to comply." Pierce mumbles. When leaves and locks the closet door after him, Barnes glances up to the ceiling, prepared to spend the rest of his day stuck inside. His eyebrows raise some when he catches sight of a vent.

It takes a few minutes to gather enough supplies within the closest to makeshift stairs so he’s able to reach the a hatch in the ceiling. It takes no time at all to get it open and for him to pull himself up, in, and disappear.

* * *

**2:05 PM**

 

Barnes isn't quite sure how long he's crawling through the heating duct. He feels the way the surface underneath him bends under his weight with each movement, but he attempts to distract himself from the nerves coiling in his stomach.

"A naked blond walks into a bar, with a poodle under one arm and a two foot salami under the other." He begins talking to himself, hoping his voice can block out the groaning of the duct when more pressure is applied, "She lays the poodle on the table. Bartender says: 'I suppose you won't be needing a drink.' The naked lady says-"

That's when the ceiling underneath gives, and he falls right through.

* * *

**2:06 PM**

 

Steve jumps right out of his seat at the sound of a loud crack, followed by Sharon's gasp. When the ceiling at the corner of the library suddenly falls apart, the only warning they get is Barnes’ scream before he falls in with the plaster.

The blond lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Barnes groans, "Shit..."

Sam laughs so hard he falls out of his chair.

* * *

**2:08 PM**

 

After Barnes had reassured everyone he's fine, he's leisurely making his way back to his table.

"The hell happened?" Sharon asks him as he walks by.

"I forgot my pencil." Is his only excuse. Sam's resting his head against his hands, his laughter having yet to cease.

Then they hear Pierce's furious voice in the hall, "Goddammit! What in God's name-!"

In a split second decision, Barnes dashes under Steve's table. When Pierce enters, no one looks his way.

"What was that?" The older man demands.

Sam is the first to look his way, and only shrugs his shoulders heavily. "What was what?"

"I was in my office and I heard something!"

"Could you describe this 'something', sir?" Sharon asks, her tone bright and almost cheerful.

Under the table, Barnes is shifting from where he's bent down by Steve's legs. When he sits up, he bangs his head on the table. Then groans. Above, Steve tries to take credit for the noise by making more noise. He clears his throat first, following it up by tapping his pencil loudly against the desk.

It does nothing to distract Pierce's attention away from him. "What is that?" He demands, and when Steve only responds by raising an eyebrow - playing dumb - he repeats, "What is that noise?"

Under the table, Barnes is soothing his head. When he notices exactly _how_ close he is to the blond's legs, he bites at his lip to suppress a smile. He lifts a hand, brushing it teasingly up Steve's thigh. Above, Steve's breathing hitches.

Thankfully, Sam draws attention to himself, "What noise, sir?"

Sharon tags in again, "Really, sir, there wasn't any noise."

When Steve suddenly whines, he covers it with a cough. Underneath, Barnes stifles his laughter behind his free hand. Then everyone starts faking a coughing fit.

Steve is visibly flustered when he continues to play along, "That noise? Was that the noise you were talking about?"

Pierce lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. "No, it wasn't. That was not the noise I was talking about." He argues, annoyed. He watches the group for a moment, waiting. Then, "I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will next time."

Natasha laughs out loud.

Pierce only points at her before he turns and walks away. The moment the library door shuts behind him, everyone laughs. Except Steve, who lets Barnes out to a barrage of slaps.

"It was an accident!" Barnes defends, weakly defending himself from the blond's attacks.

"We almost got caught!" Steve scolds, shoving at the brunet's shoulder.

"You liked it."

Steve only responds to that with a sharp huff. Once Barnes is up on his feet, he smooths his hair back. Then he holds his hand out to Steve. The blond looks up at him in confusion, so Barnes rolls his eyes and starts, "As much as I would like to get into your pants, I doubt now’s the time."

It's enough of a hint for Steve to reach down into his trousers to retrieve the bag hidden there. When he hands it to Barnes, Sam asks, "Why did we need to get that shit from your locker, anyway?"

"It helps me relax." Barnes answers, leaning up against the edge of Steve's table, "And. I think we could all relax, right now."

"Wait, what?" Sharon nearly squeaks.

Exhaling through his nose, Barnes looks down to the bag in his hand, turning it over. "We all got off on a bad foot." He admits, eyes dancing to Steve, "I think we should just start over."

"No," Sam frowns, "you're not gonna blaze up in here!"

But, when the brunet heads up to the second floor of the library, Steve follows. Then Natasha. And Sharon.

Sam only mumbles, "Shit," before he goes.

* * *

**2:28 PM**

 

Barnes, Steve, and Sam are sitting in a circle, laughing hysterically. Sharon is somewhat separated from them, but a wide smile is on her lips.

"Are you sure?" Barnes slurs, the question directed at Steve. And the blond just nods his head furiously.

"I can handle it. C'mon!" He insists. When Barnes lights Steve up, he immediately coughs the smoke out. Sam laughs at him, but leans over to pat the blond's back firmly.

"Can't hold your smoke, buddy!" He jokes, and Steve weakly shoves him back as he takes a deep breath. Sam leans back against his hands, turning his head to the other blonde a few inches away, "Like Carter."

“‘Least I’m not outta it, like she is.” Steve disagrees, gesturing to dazed girl.

Sharon shakes her head, some of her words unintelligible when she speaks, "Do you know how popular I am? I'm so popular, everybody loves me so much at this school..."

None of her words are related to the rest of the conversation.

"Poor baby." Barnes hums.

Their attention is drawn to Natasha when she emerges from a smoked-up room. She inhales another puff and bows to everybody's applause. She joins the others by dropping down besides Sharon, her head dropping against the blonde's shoulder.

* * *

**2:34 PM**

 

Barnes and Sam are laughing, Sam's head lying against Barnes’ leg. Natasha is hanging over by the statue in the back of the library. Steve is lazily dragging his pencil over a piece of paper - Sharon's. She's leaning over his shoulder, watching.

"You know," Sam starts, his eyes focused on the pair in front from him, "I've been wanting to say sorry. For being a dick this morning." Barnes hums in acknowledgement.

"I don't blame you." He's replying, tilting his head back, "I wanna beat my ass too. We're cool."

Sam laughs aloud. "Hey, Barnes." He reaches up, tapping Barnes’ arm, "You got a middle name? Feels weird callin' you by your last name, now." Sam's slurring, and Barnes smiles wide as he watches the ceiling.

"Yeah. Guess."

Natasha suddenly takes interest in the conversation and as she speaks, she moves over and sits next to the two. "You’re named after a President."

Sam and Barnes look at her in confusion - Barnes’ expression filled with a hint of fear.

"Your birthday is March 10th, you're five-nine and a half. You weigh a hundred and fifty pounds, and your social security number is 0-4-9-3-8-0-9-1" She pauses, "3."

Barnes sits up straighter, impressed. "Are you psychic?"

Natasha shakes her head slowly, "No."

"Well would you mind telling us how you know all this about him?" Sam asks, moving to place an arm behind his head like a cushion.

Barnes nudges at him, murmuring, "Can you move?"

Sam doesn't shift an inch as he replies, "No."

Natasha watches them for a moment before he turns, reaching in her bag. "I stole his wallet." She announces as she produces it in her hands and grins.

Steve's interest in his paper drops immediately, and he's leaning forward as Barnes demands, "Give it to me."

"No."

Barnes holds his hand out to her and sternly repeats, "Give it."

Natasha reluctantly hands over the wallet only when Sharon warns, "Nat," and Barnes glances through it to make sure nothing is missing.

"Huh, so you're a thief too?" Sam asks, his eyes on Barnes as he shifts through his possession.

Natasha's eyes widen a fraction, "I'm not a thief!"

"And good at lying!" Sam continues, "Multi-talented!"

Natasha stands, "What's there to steal?  Two bucks and a beaver shot!"

There's a beat before Sharon questions, "A _what_?"

Steve's moving over to Barnes’ side as Natasha turns to her, "A perverted picture."

When Sam looks up to Barnes, almost expectantly, Barnes shakes his head and gestures to Natasha, "It's missing, now. She's got it."

Sam's up on his feet within a heartbeat, hounding Natasha, "Alright, let's see it!"

Barnes snickers at them as Steve slips the wallet out of Barnes’ hand, going through the pictures inside. "Are all these your girlfriends?"

"And boyfriends." Barnes hums, his attention moving to the blond.

"All of them?"

"Some..."

"What about the others?"

Barnes is leaning back against his elbow, keeping himself propped up, "Well, some I consider my ' _significant others_ '." He lifts a hand to make air quotes, "Some I just consider."

Steve drops the wallet back onto Barnes’ lap, "Consider what?"

"Whether or not, I wanna hang out with them."

Steve watches Barnes for a long moment, before he glances over his shoulder at the three kids behind him. "So. Boyfriends _and_ girlfriends?"

"Yep."

"You're not against that?"

"Obviously. Nothin' wrong with bisexuality."

Steve's shoulders tense some, and Barnes is pushing himself up into a straighter position, ready to ask what was wrong. Steve answers before he opens his mouth, "There's a name for it?"

Barnes’ face twists with shock and sorrow when he understands, but when Steve turns back to him he clarifies, "If you like both?" Steve nods his head just slightly, and Barnes nods back. Then, treading carefully, he questions, "Is that...are you-"

"Rogers!" Sam calls, his hand coming to ruffle through the boy’s hair, "Lemme see your wallet."

Steve doesn't  argue, mutely reaching into his pocket to hand the item to the man above him. It takes Sam only seconds to start chuckling, "This is the worst fake ID I've ever seen."

Steve lets out a breathless laugh, his hand reaching up to get his wallet back. "'S only so I can vote." he explains, and Sharon laughs from where she's sitting.

"You got a fake ID to _vote_?" She repeats, "That's the most American thing I've ever heard."

"It's an important thing!" Steve defends, shoving his wallet back into his pocket when he retrieves it from Sam's grasp.

Natasha looks up suddenly, "You wanna see what's in my bag?"

Sam's turning back to his little circle with a tense, "I'm afraid to say yes."

Regardless, she dumps the contents of her bag onto the library’s couch a few feet away. A lot comes out. "Holy shit!" Sam exclaims, dropping back to where he'd been, "What is all that stuff?"

"Do you always carry this much shit in your bag?" Sharon questions, reaching forward to shuffle through some of the items.

Natasha shrugs some as she takes a seat and leans back against the cushions, "Yeah, I always carry this much shit in my bag. You never know when you may have to disappear."

"Are you gonna be like a shopping bag lady?" Sam questions, and when both girls raise their eyebrows in confusion, he explains, "You know, sit in alleyways and, like, talk to buildings. Wear big shoes. That kinda thing?"

Natasha's frowning when she replies, "I'll do what I have to do."

"Why do you have to do anything?" Sharon replies, lifting her head to give her full attention to the redhead.

But Natasha has to avoid her eyes, "My home life is...unsatisfying."

Sam's brows knit together at her answer. "So, you're saying you'd subject yourself to the violent dangers of the New York streets because your home life is _unsatisfying_?"

"I don't have to run away and live in the street." She defends, "I can run away and, go to the ocean. I can go to the country. I can go to the mountains. I can go to Israel, Africa, Russia.”

Sam only stares at her, and then leans over to Steve. "You wanna get in on this? Natasha here says she wants to run away, because her home life is _unsatisfying_."

Steve turns to look at the woman. But he looks away when they make eye contact. "Well I mean, everyone's home lives are unsatisfying. If it wasn't, people would live with their parents forever."

"Yeah, yeah I understand." Sam nods, "But I think that hers goes beyond, you know, what guys like you and me consider normal unsatisfying."

That's when Natasha seems to snap, shoving everything back into her bag, "Forget it, everything's fine!"

Sam looks back, and Sharon rests a hand against Natasha's shoulder. "What's the big deal?" Sam presses. Natasha gives him a glare.

"There's no deal. Forget it, leave me alone."

"Wait a minute," Sam's tone is sharp, "now you're carrying all that crap around in your purse. Either you really wanna run away or you want people to _think_ you wanna run away."

"Fuck off, Wilson." Natasha snaps, and gets up to walk away. Sharon doesn't sit by to watch her go.

Following the other girl down the steps, Sharon reaches out to grab her arm. Natasha's steps falter but she doesn’t face her until they have reached the bottom of the steps. "Hey," Sharon starts, dropping her hand from the other's arm, "you wanna talk?"

Again, Natasha finds it hard to look her in the eye. "No."

Sharon continues regardless, "Why not?"

"Just go away."

“Where do you want me to go?"

“Just go away, Carter!"

When Sharon turns away, Natasha's pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes. "God, you have problems." She mutters under her breath. But Sharon catches enough of the words to turn back around.

" _I'm_ the oneproblems?" She repeats.

“You do everything everybody ever tells you to do, that's a problem!"

Sharon grips the railing tight. "Okay. But I didn't dump my purse out on the couch and invite people into my problems, did I? So what's wrong?” Natasha holds her gaze. Sharon decides to guess, “What is it? Is is bad?” Natasha’s eyes fall to the floor. “Real bad? Parents?”

Natasha is silently crying now, her hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide that fact. Her voice gives it away when she murmurs, "Yeah," and her words come out shaking. But Sharon draws no attention to it, and nods.

“What do they do to you?"

Natasha almost doesn’t answer. Almost keeps her problems to herself, as she has since she was young. But, this time - in front of this beautiful girl - the words are leaving her throat before she can stop them, "They ignore me.”

Sharon's arms are around the redhead within a beat. She expects protest against the contact. Instead, Natasha melts into the embrace, and lets herself be held.

* * *

**2:54 PM**

 

The group's sitting in one circle on the floor. The silence that surrounds them is easy, now - the conversations they have are no longer forced nor bitter.

"What would I do for a million bucks?" Sam wonders, staring up at the ceiling as he ponders Steve's question, "Well, I guess I'd do as little as I had to-"

"That's boring." Steve interrupts.

"Well, how'm I supposed to answer?"

"The idea is to, like, search your mind for the absolute limit." Steve makes a little gesture with his hand, "Like, uh, would you drive to school naked?"

Sam laughs, "Um, would I have to get out of the car?"

"'Course." Steve grins, “It’s not a dare if you don’t.”

"In the spring, or winter?"

"It doesn't matter." A beat. "Spring."

"In front of the school or in back of the school?"

"Either."

Sam hums, the sound from deep in his chest. Then, he answers, "Yes."

"I'd do that." Natasha suddenly pipes up. They all look at her. "No shame."

Barnes snorts when he replies, "I believe that."

Natasha just shrugs her shoulders, her smile matching the brunet's across from her. Then, she looks besides her, at Sharon, and asks, "Would you?"

Sharon goes quiet for a long while, choosing her words carefully. "I'm not gonna answer that." Is all she replies with.

"Oh my God," Barnes grins, "you would! Could you imagine a Carter doing that!"

Sharon's lips are slightly agape at Barnes’ words, her mind reeling for ways to defend herself. "I would not!" She begins, "I never said I would do it!"

“Oh my God, Sharon Carter is a tease!" Barnes laughs aloud.

"Can we drop this." Sharon says, though her tone has the question sound more like a command.

"You're a tease and you know it." Barnes still continues.

"Okay," Sharon snaps at him, "you know what, lemme ask you a few questions."

And Barnes is suddenly defensive. He hides it, however - rolling a shoulder back as he dares, "Go ahead."

"You were bragging about all the people you've been with. Doesn't it bother you to sleep around without being in love?" She shoots, and Barnes is already taken aback at the straightforwardness, "I mean don't you want any respect?"

His brows furrowing together, he avoids anyone else's gaze but hers, "I don't screw to get respect." He counters, "Plus...how do you know I'm not in love?"

"Because you're an asshole. No one’s made an honest man out of you." Sharon deadpans. Natasha smiles besides her. Barnes keeps his eyes on her for a long moment, but Sharon's refusing to look away.

"You're still a tease." He attempts to counter.

Sharon raises her voice, "No I'm not!"

It's Sam's voice that cuts in, putting an end to the conversation, " _Alright_ , enough."

The silence that settles afterwards is far from comfortable. Sharon lifts a hand to rub at her forehead, murmuring to herself, "Why am I here."

There's a beat before Sam quietly asks, "Do you guys know what I did to get in here?" The silence continues, "I was makin' too much noise."

Barnes chuckles. "That's stupid."

"I know." Sam agrees, "Riley and I we were just talkin' and messing around." Sam trails off for a moment, his mind elsewhere. “Riley was the one who was going to get the punishment. I took the blame for him."

Barnes watches Sam carefully, noting the way his face softens at the other boy’s name. "You and Riley. You're close, aren't you?"

Sam nods slowly. “I feel like I’ve known him my whole life."

Steve’s hands are on his pant leg, messing with the hem when he speaks up, “I'm in here for being on my phone." Sharon lets out a soft bit of laughter. Steve does, too. But it’s more bitter than hers. "My parents took it away. Said it distracts me from my work. They want me to go to Harvard. Can't have a phone if you're going to Harvard, I guess."

"That's bullshit.” Barnes immediately interjects. “You're the smartest kid sitting in this circle. How's a phone gonna affect that?"

Steve looks up to Barnes, smiling gently at the other. Barnes makes the move to shift closer when Natasha speaks, "I can tie the stem of a cherry into a knot."

“So?" Sam replies, seeming to have snapped out of his little daze.

Natasha goes quiet for a moment before she adds, "...In my mouth."

"Bullshit." Barnes calls.

"Is not.”

"I can make spaghetti." Sam offers, taking her bragging as a challenge.

Natasha only gives Sam a smile, before looking to Steve, "Your turn."

Steve knits his brows together, concentrating on a good trait he could offer, "I, um. I can doodle?"

"No. You don't doodle. You make masterpieces." Barnes corrects.

"They aren't that good." Steve dismisses.

With a sharp huff, he looks to Sharon. "Carter, where's the paper you gave to Steve." Sharon reaches behind her to find the item, and leans over so Barnes can take it from her hands. "Now," He holds the paper out to the group, "raise your hand if you say this belongs in a museum." Everyone but Steve raises their hands.

Steve reaches up, snatching the paper from Barnes’ hands. "They're just doodles." He argues again, "My actual drawings look better."

"Well," Barnes starts, "I'm going to hold you to that claim. I expect to see these drawings sometime soon."

Natasha looks away from the couple, her focus going to Sharon. "You have any gimmicks?"

Sharon’s hesitant, looking at the group as she picks at her nails. "You guys can't laugh."

"No promises." Barnes murmurs. He smiles when Steve elbows him. Then, with a huff at the pointed look Steve gives him, he leans over to the other blonde with a light smile on his lips, “Alright. Surprise me, Carter.”

Sharon stands up from the rest of the group, and wanders down the steps, out of sight. When she returns, it’s with an empty juice box. Steve sits up straighter. “Did you take that outta the trash?”

Sharon only hums and nods. Taking the library’s ladder, she moves it to the end of an aisle and climbs only far enough to place the box on top of an empty bookshelf.

When she steps back to the four teens, she faces the shelf - now nearly at the other end of the room. “So you can put a box on top of a shelf?” Barnes pipes up, earning a smack in the arm from Steve.

Sharon doesn’t pay him mind, though. She’s focused on removing her right earring. And, without missing a beat, she throws it at the box. It falls over a second later.

“Holy shit.” Sam murmurs.

“How the hell…” Steve starts, but the rest of his words are forgotten.

“My aunt taught me how to be a good shot.” Sharon replies, “Bought me a revolver a year ago.”

“I’ll be damned.” Barnes smiles, and Sharon turns to him. “You’re not that bad, Carter.” He comments, and Sharon matches his grin; both know he wasn’t just referencing her talent.

* * *

**3:34 PM**

 

"James Barnes."

Steve's voice is quiet against the easy silence. Sam, Sharon, and - surprisingly - Natasha are asleep, practically piled up against each other; Barnes’ lap getting the unlucky role as Sam's footrest. Both Steve and himself had agreed to stay up to watch for Pierce's return, given that neither felt any fatigue.

Silence had dragged on for roughly ten minutes after the three had drifted off, but Steve's voice isn't unwelcome to Barnes’ ears.

"That's my name." Barnes hummed, lulling his head forwards some to smile Steve's way.

"So. Can I call you James, then? Instead'a Barnes?" Steve questions. He's lying on the floor, his hand outstretched as if he's reaching for the ceiling.

Barnes just watches him for a moment. "People who hate me call me James." He informs, a small smile tugging at his lips, "People who like me call me Bucky."

Steve smiles, eyes glancing Barnes’ way for a moment, "And I'm guessing I can count the number of people who call you Bucky on my hand, right?"

Barnes lifts up his fingers, "Three, now."

"I'm honored." Steve grins; Barnes lets out a breathless laugh from where he sits. When Steve's eyes return to his outstretched hand, Barnes shifts Sam's legs off - the other man grumbling in his sleep - and stands over the blond.

"What're doin'?" He asks. Steve just shrugs.

"Didn't realize how big my hands were until now."

Barnes furrows his brows, looking between Steve's hand, and his own. Then he lifts his gloved left to press their palms together. "I dunno," He hums, "they look pretty normal compared to mine."

Steve laughs, soft and quiet. His hand moves enough to have Barnes’ fingers slip between his, intertwining. That's when Steve goes quiet and Barnes’ heart skips.  
_You should kiss me_ , He wants to say, to tease. But the longer he stares down at those bright, innocent eyes, the worse the thoughts get. Unfortunately, one of those thoughts slips through his lips.

“Let’s go to the closet.”

The bewildered expression that crosses Steve’s face is cute. “What?”

“The supply closet. Let’s go see what’s in it.”

Steve drops his hand, their contact, but only to look back at the front doors. For Pierce. Then back to their...friends?

“They’re asleep.” Barnes states, “They wouldn’t know we ever left.”

Steve’s attention returns to him, his eyes searching. Barnes isn’t sure what he’s looking for. But, with a quick smile, Steve reaches for his - Sharon’s - paper and hops to his feet.

“Alright, _Bucky_.” Barnes’ chest flutters at hearing his name fall from Steve’s lips, “Let’s go see what adventure lies in the supply closet. ‘M sure it’ll be more fun than watching them sleep.”

* * *

**3:41 PM**

 

The supply closet, as it turns out, is small; big enough to house some cleaning supplies and a stack of old desks and chairs, a broken filing cabinet, and two students sitting in a comfortable silence. Bucky’s willing to bet the Lincoln in his wallet that the mop and bucket in the corner haven’t been used in years. The filing cabinet he’s leaning against is probably ancient, too – does anyone named Banner even teach at this school, anymore?

The air is stuffy and the cement floor is cold. He’s a little worried for the skinny blond sitting across from him, who should definitely _not_ be sitting so close to a moldy mop. Can you get mesothelioma from a dusty supply closet?

Steve, however, looks content, albeit a _lot_ more nervous than he had been before they entered the closet. They hadn’t been alone like this since the cafeteria.

Steve’s leaned up against the wall, sitting on the jacket Bucky laid out for him like the gentleman he pretends not to be. He’s concentrating on his paper, with only occasional glances towards Bucky. But each time Bucky catches him, his cheeks flush pink, and he quickly looks back to his paper.

By the third or fourth time, Bucky grins, catching on to what has him so focused. “Whatchya doin’, Stevie?”

The blond’s blush darkens and he seems to curl into himself. “Nothing,” He mumbles, now refusing to look up.

Bucky knows better.

He inches toward the blond, crawling on his hands and knees. “Really?” He taunts, “You sure you’re not _drawing_ something? Maybe drawing… _me_?” The way Steve’s ears turn pink and he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose is confirmation enough. Bucky’s grin grows wider. He inches closer. Steve bites his lip and filthy thoughts once again cross Bucky’s mind.

He imagines, not for the first time, how sweet those plump lips might taste. He imagines running his hands through blond hair that’s already been tousled with a nervous hand throughout the day, going from neat and combed to wild and unruly. Bucky imagines this little dork would fit perfectly in his arms; Steve’s head would fall onto Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky’s chin would rest in feather soft hair. They’d fit together like two puzzle pieces.

He imagines Steve would moan something awful with his dick in Bucky’s mouth; this kid looks like a screamer.

And looking at him now, curled up with his paper, the bright red flush of his cheeks inching below his shirt collar – Bucky’s willing to bet _all_ the US presidents in his wallet that Steve blushes from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes.

Bucky bites down on those lascivious thoughts, tries to ignore how much he wants to push this innocent, little twink up against the wall and make him realize how much fun sex can be. How much fun _Bucky_ can be.

It takes an unprecedented amount of self-control – for Bucky, at least – to find his voice and say, “Can I see?”

His fingertips just barely brush the top of the paper, trying to sneak a peek, but Steve is quick. He rolls the sheet up and shoves it into his pocket before Bucky even has time to wipe the grin off his face. When he looks back at Bucky, his arms crossed over his chest, it’s obvious he’s trying to come off as casual. To Bucky, however, it just comes off as adorable.

He backs up a little, sitting on his calves and holding his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough,” He concedes with a smile.

Steve fiddles with the hem of his shirt and glances quickly between the floor, to Bucky, to his shirt, back to Bucky, to the walls, to the ceiling, back to the floor, back to Bucky. He fidgets and taps his foot and can’t seem to figure out where to look or what to do.

If Bucky didn’t know any better, he’d say Steve looked…nervous? Embarrassed? Both?

“So,” Steve asks, finally breaking the silence that has fallen between them, “besides, y’know, what you told us at lunch, do you have more damage?”

Bucky frowns some at the memory of his outburst, at the expression Steve wore when he saw his arm. But he hides it behind a grin and brushes the hair out of his eyes. “When I was ten I stole a plum from the grocery store when my mom wasn’t looking. It’s been downhill ever since,” He says with a wink.

At first, Steve gives an unimpressed arch of his brow, then there’s a twitch of his lips. He looks down at his sneakers, but Bucky still catches the spread of a smile. Bucky feels proud of himself for being the reason behind that absolutely adorable face he’s making, shy as it is. A pleasant feeling blooms in his chest.

If Bucky was a smart man, he might be trying to tamp that feeling down. However, Bucky is not a smart man.

It’s short-lived, anyway. Steve raises his gaze back to Bucky, a mischievous glint in those baby blue eyes. Bucky didn’t even think this kid was _capable_ of a look like that. “I guess with a middle name like _Buchanan_ ,” He says, and Bucky’s heart sinks, “could drive anyone to criminal activity, huh, James?” Steve’s smile turns into something haughty and sinister and he bites his lip to suppress a laugh – no doubt at Bucky’s expression of horror.

Bucky didn’t find it as funny. His own grin all but disappeared; it visibly  _fell_ from his face at the sound of his embarrassment of a middle name. “How did you – “

Steve dropped his head to look back at his sneakers like they were the most fascinating shoes in the world. His grin didn’t waver, but at least now it seemed cheeky rather than evil. “I looked through your wallet, remember? Took a peak your driver’s license.” He fiddles with the laces of his pair of star-spangled ( _really, dude?_ ) Chuck Taylors.

Embarrassment faded to amusement. “Well, well. I’m impressed, Glasses. Didn’t take you of all people for a thief.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve laughs. Bucky’s chest swells once again at the sound. “And technically I didn’t _steal_ it; I put it back before you got the wallet again.”

“Punk.”

They look at each other for a moment. A painfully _long_ moment. The silence between them is deafening, but not uncomfortable. The air feels so thick he could probably cut it with a knife. Steve drags his tongue over his bottom lip, and that’s exactly where Bucky’s gaze falls.

 _Fuck_ , he really wants to kiss this kid.

Steve must have noticed, because he does it again, this time slower. Bucky takes a deep, shaky breath; his throat feels dry all of a sudden, and his hands are clammy.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks. Bucky nods. “In the cafeteria – I mean, if Sam hadn’t, y’know,“ he was wringing the hem of his shirt again, “would you have...were you going to, um –“

“Kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky swallows the knot in his throat. He wanted to squirm under Steve’s intense gaze. “Only if you would have let me.”

“I would have.” Steve breathed.

“Would you still?” Bucky’s never felt this nervous with someone before. Maybe it was the way Steve was looking at him; big, innocent, blue eyes boring into his with curiosity and determination. Bucky’s hands were definitely clammy.

Steve averts his gaze and chews on his nail for a moment, as if he’s thinking about it. When he looks back at Bucky, he’s colored pink with embarrassment. “I might be bad at it.”

Bucky smiles and breathes a small laugh. “Bullshit.”

“Well?” Steve says after a moment when Bucky doesn’t move closer. “You just gonna keep staring, or are you gonna do something?”

That’s all the invitation Bucky needs. He surges forward to close the gap between them and capture the blond’s lips in a kiss. It’s gentle at first, chaste. One of Bucky’s arms snakes around a thin waist, bringing their bodies flush against each other, his fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. His other hand cups Steve’s cheek, gently caressing his cheekbone. Steve shivers in Bucky’s embrace and wraps his own arms around Bucky’s neck.

Bucky was right; Steve’s lips are, in fact, as soft as they look.

When they break apart, they both smile. Steve sighs and says, “Again.”

Bucky’s smile widens and he happily obliges.

This time, it’s not as chaste, but just as gentle. Bucky’s hand glides through Steve’s hair and grips it slightly, just as he drags his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip. The gasp he receives in response is enough for him to slip inside and taste Steve for the first time. Again, Bucky was right; Steve tastes sweet. The moan that escapes the blond, however, is so much sweeter. Steve tightens his hold around Bucky’s neck, his fingers pulling at Bucky’s hair. Bucky loves it. Wants more of it.

He massages Steve’s tongue with his own, guiding Steve into an ebb and flow. Steve, for all his nervous fumbling, is a pretty fast learner, and he returns the kiss with growing enthusiasm. He pulls back to give Steve a moment to breathe, remembering his asthma attack earlier. He worries for a moment about his lungs, but Steve only chases after him. They continue like that for a while, kissing and touching and pulling at hair, until finally Steve pulls back to gasp for air.

“You okay, Stevie?” Bucky asks, short of breath himself. Somehow, Steve ended up in Bucky’s lap, straddling his thighs without either of them noticing. Bucky wonders if Steve can feel the hardness in his jeans; a part of him hopes he does, hopes Steve knows how much of a turn on he is, but he also doesn’t want Steve to think Bucky will try to pressure him into anything.

“Yeah, yeah – _God_ – yeah, I’m good.”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs, looking into bright blue eyes and stroking Steve’s back, “you are. Are you sure you’ve never kissed anyone before?”

Steve chuckles, “You’re just being nice.”

“Mm-mm,” Bucky shakes his head and presses a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I’m being honest.”

Steve grips Bucky’s shoulders and presses their foreheads together. “Bucky?”

He hums.

“I’m hard.”

Bucky only laughs. “You, too?”

Steve fidgets in Bucky’s lap, his ears burning red. “I don’t really know–“

Bucky cuts him off with a kiss, gentle and calming. “It’s okay, Stevie. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

That only makes Steve fidget more, causing their cocks to brush against each other. _God_ – he really is hard.

“That’s the thing, though. It’s not like I’m a prude or anything, I just – I would _love_ to lose my virginity. I’m _ready_ to. But –“

“Not in a school supply closet?” Bucky guesses with a laugh.

Steve bites his lip, “It’s not what I imagined, no.”

“Like I said, Stevie. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. If you just want to kiss, we can just kiss.”

“But, what if I want _more_?”

Bucky hums in thought. “Well,” He tightens his hold around Steve’s thin waist, places a small kiss at his jawline, “I could suck you off.” Steve’s breath catches in his throat and Bucky grins. He purposefully lowers his voice in Steve’s ear. “I’ve had some practice; I can make you feel _real nice_ , Stevie. Would you like that?” Steve moans and shakes in Bucky’s arms. He rolls his hips over Bucky’s lap, making Bucky moan himself; he’s not even sure that Steve’s aware of what he’s doing.

Steve dips down and bites at Bucky’s bottom lip. Bucky gasps at Steve’s initiative. “Yes,” He sighs, “ _please_.”

“Maybe you should take your glasses off.”

“Mm-mm,” Steve shakes his head, “I wanna see you. Clearly.”

Bucky smiles then lifts Steve up off his lap. He reaches for his jacket to spread out over the floor for Steve to lay on. He takes off his overshirt and rolls it into a ball, placing it behind the blond for a makeshift pillow. It’s not the most comfortable option, but they don’t have many.

He guides Steve to lay down on the coat and Steve follows, shaking with what Bucky hopes is anticipation. Bucky hovers over him, massaging Steve’s arms and chest, trying to get him to relax. “You sure about this?” He asks.

When Steve nods enthusiastically, Bucky leans down to kiss him just as he dips his hands beneath the hem of Steve’s shirt. Milk pale skin is slowly revealed, and Bucky takes the opportunity to press light kisses to Steve’s prominent hipbones, up his stomach, to his protruding ribs, then back down again.

He leans back to regard the blond underneath him with dark eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” He says, and Steve whines. He’s covering his face with his hands. Bucky wraps his hands gently around thin wrists and guides them to his own chest. “You can touch me, Stevie,” He says into the blond’s ear, grazing his teeth over the shell of his ear. Steve shivers in response. “I want you to touch me. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Stevie, I promise.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve whines, rolling his hips and digging his fingernails into Bucky’s shirt, “ _please_.”

“You want my mouth baby? You want me to suck your dick until you come?” Bucky knows this isn’t fair, knows he’s being a teasing little shit. But he can’t help it. This little dork does awful things to Bucky, and he wants to do _sinful_ things to Steve.

“Jesus, Bucky, _please_.”

Deciding to finally concede, he kisses Steve, rough and demanding. “You want your shirt off?”

“Yeah. _Yes._ Yours, too.”

Bucky hums in approval. He first helps Steve to wiggle out of his shirt, then, without a second thought, pulls his own long-sleeved shirt over his head.

The moment it’s off and he feels Steve’s warm hand on his left arm – his bare left arm – he freezes. He watches as Steve run his hand over Bucky’s scarred skin. In a moment of panic and horror and embarrassment, he reaches back for his shirt. Before he can pull it back on, Steve stops him, gripping his wrist tight. When their eyes meet again, Bucky can see Steve’s pupils are blown wide. There’s no disgust in those blue eyes and Bucky feels that bubble of shame in his chest begin to dissipate. Steve’s hands slide up Bucky’s arms to wrap around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. Bucky goes willingly.

It’s heated, rough, and more desperate than any before them. Steve bites Bucky’s bottom lip before soothing the pain away with his tongue, then diving in for more. As they get lost in each other, Steve manages to wrap his legs around Bucky’s waist, making it easier to grind his cock against Bucky’s. Bucky hisses at the contact.

Bucky pulls at Steve’s hair, snapping his head back to expose Steve’s neck. He trails strategically placed kisses down his neck, his chest, his abdomen, before finally returning to Steve’s hips. Steve is writhing now, his nails digging into the skin of Bucky’s shoulder. He loves every second of it.

He kneads his palm over Steve’s hard cock, placing tender kisses to sharp hipbones, watching through long, dark lashes as the blond fights for breath. It isn’t until Steve looks down at him, no doubt wondering what Bucky’s fucking _waiting for_ , that Bucky pops the button of Steve’s jeans open and pulls down the zipper. Torturously slow.

Intense. That’s the only word Bucky can think of to describe this moment stretching between them. Bucky’s hot breath caressing Steve’s still trapped dick; Steve’s hands at his shoulders; their unwavering eye contact. Bucky can’t recall such intense eye contact with any of his previous partners. It’s both unsettling and exciting. And he doesn’t even have Steve’s dick in his mouth yet.

“Quit fuckin’ teasing me, jerk,” Steve bites out.

Bucky grins, then does as he’s told. He pulls Steve’s jeans down just far enough and breaks their eye contact to finally get a peek at the straining, already leaking cock in Steve’s underwear. And _Jesus H. Christ_ , what he sees is beautiful. Bucky can’t help himself after that – he closes the distance and mouths Steve’s thick cock through the fabric of his underwear.

Steve’s reaction is instantaneous. The blond moans louder than before ( _though not loud_ enough _in Bucky’s opinion_ ) and buries his fingers in Bucky’s hair, rolling his hips against Bucky’s mouth. “ _Please_ , Buck. Goddammit.”

Bucky pulls off, leaving a large wet spot on Steve’s underwear and smiles up at the blond. “I like it when you curse. I like it even more when you call me that.”

“Buck?”

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky kisses Steve’s cock again, sucking at the head. He can taste the faintest hint of precum through the cotton.

“ _Buck_.” Steve chokes on a moan as Bucky cups and massages what is not covered with his mouth. “For _fuck’s sake_.”

Bucky looks up and gives Steve a dark, heady look. Then, ever so slowly, dips his fingers underneath the fabric of Steve’s boxer-briefs, and pulls them down to his knees along with his jeans. Steve hisses at the cool air as his cock is exposed, but it’s swallowed up by a moan as Bucky finally – _finally_ – wraps his lips around the swollen head. The fingers in Bucky’s hair grip ever tighter as Bucky bobs his head once, twice, three times, nearly taking Steve’s whole cock into his mouth.

All Steve can do is moan curses and Bucky’s name and roll his hips even further into the hot cavern of Bucky’s mouth; he’s helpless to do anything but ask for more, _more_ , “ _God, Bucky,_ more!” And Bucky can’t get enough.

Bucky swallows him down to the root, gently grazing his teeth over heated skin just to be an ass. He waits until Steve’s eyes are on him again, then deliberately hollows his cheeks as he sucks slowly, _slowly_ back up, swirling his tongue around Steve’s leaking head, before pulling away with a pop. Steve shudders and his blue eyes roll back. Bucky quickly covers the blond’s mouth to muffle the wrecked sob that escapes him.

“Shh, baby doll,” Bucky smiles, kissing his way up Steve’s body to whisper in his ear. “We don’t want our _friends_ to hear.” Steve shivers and a thought crosses his mind, “Or, _do_ you?” Bucky grins and nips at Steve’s earlobe. “It’s okay, Stevie. I’ve got you.” He releases Steve’s mouth and lavishes his neck and chest with kisses, biting and sucking at flushed skin. Bucky was right – Steve’s a full-body blusher, and he’s never seen anything more gorgeous. He also discovers, very quickly, how sensitive Steve’s nipples are. He gives them extra attention while his hand goes to work on Steve’s cock.

“Bucky – _fuck_ – Bucky, I’m gonna –“ Steve pants, clearly incapable of complete sentences.

“You gonna come, Stevie?” Bucky asks, sinking his teeth into the flesh underneath Steve’s nipple. “You gonna make a mess for me?”

Steve, without hesitation, pulls Bucky to him for a desperate, almost animalistic kiss. Bucky wrings the blond’s cock as their lips and tongues move together in tandem. When Bucky whispers, “Come for me, baby,” against Steve’s lips before diving immediately back in, there’s only a moment’s pause. Then, Steve’s body convulses and quivers and his moan is swallowed up by Bucky’s mouth on his. Bucky can feel the warmth coat his hand as he continues to pump Steve through his orgasm. Steve’s fingers have a lethal grip on Bucky’s hair, and he’s struggling to catch his breath. Fearing he’s having an asthma attack, Bucky pulls away to regard the blond beneath him, flushed pink and sweaty and covered in ropes of cum.

“You okay?”

“Oh god, that was, Bucky, holy _fuck_ –“ Steve cuts himself off by pulling Bucky down for a hungry kiss.

Bucky hums as Steve’s entire body relaxes, even on such an uncomfortable surface. He takes the opportunity to dip down to Steve’s abdomen and lick the mess from his skin, then meets blue eyes to lick the rest from his fingers. Steve bites back a moan.

They let the moment stretch between them as Steve comes down from his high, Bucky massaging his shoulders, his chest, his thighs. The strain in his own jeans didn’t even occur to him until Steve asks, “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“I could – I mean,” His cheeks redden again, “I could return the favor if you, if you want.”

Bucky bites his lip and lets out a quiet laugh. “You’re sweet,” He says, leaning down for a kiss, “But you don’t have to do that.”

Steve chews on the inside of his cheek, as if he’s thinking hard about something. Then, without warning, he wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist again and pulls their chests flush against each other. “What if I want to keep going?”

Bucky, whose eyes had fluttered closed at the sudden contact, hums in thought. He does have a condom, and lube, and he would be nothing less than ecstatic to be balls deep in this guy he only met that morning – a fact that still shocks him, if he’s perfectly honest with himself – but, “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering at first, Steve tightens his hold around Bucky’s neck and bites his jaw, then kisses his lips. “Yes. I want you to keep making me feel good.”

“Even in a school broom closet?” Bucky smirks, coming off a little more self-deprecating than he intended.

Steve doesn’t seem to pick up on it and nods enthusiastically. “It’s definitely not what I pictured, but what does it matter. I’m comfortable here. With _you_.” He adds the last part with a shy smile.

 _Dammit_ , Bucky thinks. _This kid is going to be the death of me._

“What did you always imagine your first time to be like?” Bucky asks, caressing Steve’s cheek just underneath his glasses. He was so warm. Both of them, burning up, even though the air around them is chill. Though, perhaps it wasn’t the air that was raising goosebumps on Bucky’s skin. He’s never been nervous with anyone before – not like this. “Were there candles? Romantic music? A rose petal path leading to the bed?”

Steve laughs. “Aw, shucks, Barnes; you caught me. I’m a hopeless romantic deep down,” He says, but he’s rolling his eyes.

Bucky doesn’t press it. Doesn’t mention that may have been how he imagined _his_ first time. But instead of a large bed covered in rose petals, he got the back seat of Brock Rumlow’s (dad’s) Chevy.

He kisses Steve one more time at the corner of his mouth. “Are you _sure_ about this, Steve?”

“You have a condom, don’t you?” He asks, knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

“And you’ll be gentle?” He undoubtedly knows the answer to _that,_ too.

“Yes, baby.”

Steve breaks out into a brilliant smile. “And you’ll keep calling me ‘baby’?”

Bucky returns it. “Of course, baby.”

“Then,” Steve grips Bucky’s ass in both hands and forces his hips down, their groins rubbing together; Bucky can feel that Steve is, impressively, already hard again, “I’m sure, Buck. I want you to have me. I want you to make me feel good. I – I _trust_ you.”

And that’s all she wrote.

Bucky’s mouth is on Steve’s before either of them have a moment to really process what Steve just said. It’s enough for Bucky to rummage through his coat pocket for the condom and packets of lubricant; his brain short-circuits for a split second as Steve’s mouth latches onto his neck. Bucky really hopes he comes out of this with a hickey or two – he hopes _Steve_ comes out of this with a hickey or two. Or five. Or ten.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” Bucky asks, tugging Steve’s jeans off the rest of the way. Steve nodded as he reached for the button and zipper of Bucky’s own jeans. He manages to hastily kick them off too, even with his mouth preoccupied with Steve’s.

Steve visibly shivers at the first sight of Bucky’s exposed cock, thick and red and swollen. He wets his lips and looks back up at Bucky through long, pretty lashes. “You _sure_ you don’t want me to suck you off, too? I’ve been told I’m a real fast learner.” His words are bold but the tips of his ears are burning red. It’s endearing, really, how enthusiastic he is – about how enthusiastic _Bucky_ makes him.

But as tempting as the offer is, Bucky has other things in mind. Dirty, sinful things. He strokes Steve’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Maybe next time, Stevie.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” He grins, eyes shining.

Bucky shrugs, trying not to show what those beautiful blue eyes are doing to him. “Up to you. _I_ certainly wouldn’t be opposed.” Steve hums his approval and sits up to kiss at Bucky’s neck, working his way down to his shoulder, then his chest, then to his arm, to his – _fuck_ – to his s _carred_ arm. Steve doesn’t seem to be deterred by it. He looks to be enjoying himself, and that’s enough for Bucky.

And they haven’t even started.

* * *

**4:23 PM**

 

Bucky has no idea how these three teens slept through their fun. It really is a mystery. The eighth wonder of the world. But, he supposes he should consider it a good thing. No one woke up and interrupted. And them still being out when he and Steve left the room - now dressed, Steve still fixing his hair - prevented any last-minute bullshit explanations.

Steve was smiling a little bigger. A little brighter. It contrasted Bucky’s small and gentle one. He didn’t directly follow behind Steve; only watched the blond make his way back to his place on the floor, ready to pretend as if nothing had occurred. And this fact is what wiped his smile off his lips, what left his chest feeling hollow and cold where Steve had lit it with warmth. How long would they keep that act up? The next half hour? The week? The rest of their lives?

Steve was...different. Far, far different than anyone Bucky had hooked up with prior. And, unlike those countless faces, Bucky was near positive he didn’t _want_ Steve to be a hook up. Not a one-time fling, ready to be forgotten. He couldn’t recall someone who had been as kind, as brave, as sarcastic, as defiant, as big of a punk as Steve is. But, he was never really looking for someone like Steve. Perhaps that was for a reason.

People like him and people like Steve just didn’t mix. People like him, and Steve, and Sam, and Sharon, and Natasha. They all didn’t mix. Weren’t suppose to. Whatever they all had, here in this library, was going to stay here. Their secrets, their laughter, their relationships. Those things did not belong in the real world.

Bucky understood that. Steve, it seemed, did not. That would be the worst part of it all, letting him know. But...Bucky could stall that information, if just for a few minutes longer. Finally making his way back to their rag-tag group, he gently kicked at Sam’s legs until the boy awoke with a start.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauties, you’re gonna oversleep.” He attempts to jab. But energy seemed to leave his words before they left his throat.

“How long were we out?” Sharon rolls out of the embrace her and Natasha had 'accidentally' fallen asleep in, running her fingers through her hair.

“I’d say like thirty, forty minutes.” Steve answers her, but Bucky picks up on the little bit of pride in his tone. When he does look the blond’s way and catches the smile Steve gives him, Bucky finds it difficult to return.

* * *

**4:28 PM**

 

There was deafening silence between the five kids, each seemingly minding their own business as minutes ticked by. Less than forty minutes left until their punishment was over. Any relief they might had that morning was now replaced by dread; they all felt it.

Natasha’s the only one to speak up about it, “I don’t want to leave this place.”

Bucky studies the woman across from him before he agrees, “I don’t want to go back to my parents, either.”

“I don’t think any of us want to go back.” Sam speaks up. Then, with worry, he murmurs, “My God, are we gonna be like our parents?"

“Not me.” Sharon answers, though her eyes are on the pattern of the library’s carpet, “Ever."

Natasha shakes her head at the claim, a sour grin on her lips, "It's unavoidable, it just happens."

When the blonde lifts her gaze, she frowns, “What happens?"

"When you grow up, your heart dies."

There’s a heavy sigh from Bucky. "Thanks for the positive attitude, Nat."

"I'm being honest." She defends. No one speaks up to disagree.

So Steve, instead, changes subjects, "I was just thinking...I mean, I know it's kind of a weird time, but I was wondering what’s gonna happen to us. On Monday?” The looks each teen gives him push him to add, “When we're all together again? I consider you guys my friends now. I'm not wrong, am I?"

“No..." Sam hums.

"So,” Steve glances Bucky’s way for only a moment, “on Monday, what happens?"

"Are we still friends, you mean?” Sharon inquires, “If we're friends now?"

"Yeah.”

"...I think so." Sam answers, but Bucky bites out a laugh.

"Really? You're gonna come up to be Monday morning and chat like we're best friends?" He counters.

Sam’s lips purse together, "Why wouldn't I?"

"What would your boyfriend think?" He immediately retorts. Sam jerks at the words.

"He's not-" A pause. Then a rough exhale. "Whatever."

Bucky leans back against his hands, his palms flat against the floor, "We're all kinda fucked. That's obvious."

"Some of us more than others." Sharon mutters to herself.

“But people like us.” Bucky continues, gesturing to the circle, “We don't mingle." A frown is back on his lips when his gaze dances over Steve, so he averts it back to Sam, "Maybe we want to. But we can't. Nerds don't mix with jocks.” He looks to the girls, “Princesses don't mix with outcasts. That's how it is."

Steve’s heart tightens at the brunet’s lecture. His words are angry when he practically growls, “Says who? Who says we can't still be together after this? That we can’t make it work?"

"People like us should stick together.” Natasha agrees, “People who are ignored and used. We need to stick together."

Bucky acknowledges the group for a beat, then only shrugs his shoulders. "If any of you come up to me on Monday, then we're friends. But if you don't, which I know you all won't, then my point is proven. We don't mix."

Bucky’s words hang in the air for passing minutes, everyone seeming to avoid each other as worry spikes in each of their chests; worry that Bucky will be right, that none of them will smile or speak to the other come Monday morning. Sam has a knack for de-escalating situations, just like he does with escalating them. So when the silence has dragged on for too long, he suggests, "Well. Until Monday, we're all friends right now, right?"

Steve nods. "Yeah. I think."

"So, why waste our time moping around. Pierce hasn't been back for hours. We could have some fun."

Sharon watches Sam with some suspicion as the boy jumps to his feet, "What kinda fun?"

"Pierce took my phone away this morning, but,” He turns to the empty glass room at the other side of the library, “I'm ninety percent sure there are old music records in there."

"How do you know that?" Bucky grins. Sam smiles back when he retorts, "I _do_ come to the library from time to time, Barnes. Music's always playing during the day."

"Well," Steve starts, rising to his feet, "let's test your theory. Natasha," He looks to the redhead, "you know how to pick locks?"

* * *

**4:38 PM**

 

Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and Steve are sitting, in that order, on a railing. Steve turns around enough to look behind them, smiling wide at the sight of Bucky lying on the floor - an opened magazine covering his eyes. At some point during their "fun,” he had decided to collapse onto the ground. When Sam had walked past, he dropped the magazine onto Bucky's head. The brunet hadn't moved since.

"Steve?" He hears Sharon's voice. He turns towards her.

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna write your paper?" She questions, and Steve exhales through his nose.

"I would," He starts, "if I hadn't used my paper for drawing."

"You can use Barnes'." Sam suggests.

"I give my consent." Bucky calls from where he lied.

Shrugging his shoulders, Steve looks towards the tables, at the paper abandoned on the back desks' surface. "Why?" He questions.

"Well, none of us have our papers left. Looks like we can only turn in one paper, now." Sharon smiles, "And I think we'd all kinda say the same thing, anyway."

Sam's nodding in agreement, "Plus, you're the smartest, right?"

Steve smiles some at the compliment, his head ducking down. "Oh, well-"

"We trust you." Sharon concludes, placing a hand on the other blond's shoulder. Steve lifts his head to glance over at Natasha and Sam, who both nod in approval.

Worrying his bottom lip in thought, Steve eventually nods in agreement, "All right, I'll do it."

"Great!" Sharon claps her hands together. Then, glancing Natasha's way, she pushes off the railing and holds her hands out, "Come on!"

"Where're we going?" Natasha murmurs, a suspicious frown tugging at her lips.

But Sharon only giggles and repeats, "Come on!"

Natasha is being tugged behind her the moment she takes the other's outstretched hands. Wandering back into the familiar record-holding, glass room, she sits Natasha down firmly.

"Don't be afraid." Sharon tells her as she leans in, brushing Natasha's bangs off to the side to better see her eyes. "Now. Hold still." She continues, reaching into her purse. When she pulls out eyeliner, Natasha leans back some.

"Don't stick that in my eye." She warns.

Sharon only rolls her eyes. "I'm not gonna stick it. Just gonna be close. Now, shut your eyes. It'll be easier."

A few minutes pass and Sharon slowly inches her way closer as she continues adding touch ups to Natasha's makeup. "After you, y'know, had that episode, your makeup smeared. It's been bothering me." Natasha lets herself laugh some. Sharon immediately swats at her arm. "Hey, don't move. You're gonna fuck me up."

Natasha purses her lips together as she sits herself up straighter, keeping her laughter to herself. Sharon pauses however, biting at her lip. She'd only been this close to Natasha in the hallway, where her stomach had begun to fill with butterflies until Fury had interrupted and separated them. But there was no one there who would interrupted them if she were to lean forward, like she'd wanted to earlier that day. Like she'd dreamed.

Sharon doesn't realize she'd done just that until her lips are pressed softly against Natasha's. The redhead jerks back, almost falling off the seat Sharon had placed her on. But, just as fast as she had pulled away, she's leaning forwards to close their gap - Sharon allows herself to sigh with pure relief into the kiss, her hand lifting to cup Natasha's cheek.

When they pull apart, Natasha's eyes are shut. Sharon can see her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter, and she smiles some. "That bad?"

Shaking her head, Natasha's eyes slide open. "Just. Felt late." She comments. Sharon's smile grows, her hand pulling back some when she realizes she's smeared the touch up.

"Your makeup's fucked up again." She points out, but Natasha's leaning in with a quiet, "Don't care."

And when their lips press together again, Natasha's makeup is the last thing on Sharon's mind.

* * *

**4:42 PM**

 

Steve's tapping his pencil against the sheet of paper now in front of him. Every part of him is screaming to just draw - it's what he's best at. Why waste paper on an essay that won't matter when he could be doodling, could be drawing out the library, could be drawing Bucky's jaw line, or the way his hair seems to bounce with every step he takes, to memorialize the expressions he remembers from the closet-

"You alright, man?" Steve all but jumps when he hears Sam, who's now leaning against the railing, rather than sit on it.

"Fine," He groans in reply. "Just. Don't know how to start this paper."

"Tell Pierce to fuck off." Bucky's voice rings out again, and Steve hides his smile behind his hand.

"I don't wanna piss of the guy who could very easily ruin my life, Bucky." Steve replies. But, Bucky's words do offer an opportunity. As soon as words begin to form in his mind, the pencil is moving across the page.

It takes him only ten minutes to finish the essay.

* * *

**5:00 PM**

 

The five teens are walking down the hall, Pierce in tow, to see Fury sweeping up.  Natasha nods his way. He nods in return.

When Bucky wanders by, his arm hooked around Steve's shoulders, he smiles at the older man. "See you next Saturday, Nick."

"Counting on it." Fury replies, just the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. The kids are out of the doors before any of them can see it.

When Sharon spots her Aunt's car waiting for her at the curb, she turns to the redhead at her side. She doesn't have to ask before Natasha's leaning in to kiss for a last time. Then Natasha's reaching down at the sleeve of Sharon's jacket, and rips a patch off.

"To remember you. And for you to remember me." Is her excuse. She's pushing Sharon towards her car before she can reply. But there's a smile on Sharon's lips as she gets into the passenger seat, ignoring the knowing glance her Aunt gives her as she starts the vehicle.

When a car pulls up after the Carter's leave, Sam playfully nudges Bucky aside to get in. Grinning, Bucky steps forward as Sam opens the door. "Wanna give me a ride?" He teases. Sam only scoffs as he gets in.

"Sorry," He replies, "don't have room."

"You got two more seats back there." Bucky laughs. Immediately, Sam removes his jacket and tosses it into the back.

"They're taken." He grins, before finally shutting the door. Bucky takes enough of a step back for the car to drive off.

Natasha, Bucky, and Steve are left waiting for moments longer until Steve lets out a dejected sigh as his mother's car pulls in.

"She's here." He frowns. Bucky's in front of him before he can blink.

"What's the frown for?" He asks, though he doesn't expect Steve to answer. Placing his hand gently under the other's chin, he lifts Steve's head up. Steve turns his head to attempt to catch Bucky's lips as the other leans down, but Bucky moves his head further off to press his kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth, instead. "I'm gonna see you Monday morning. Aren't I?" At Steve's mute nod, Bucky smiles again, but it falters when he feels Steve's fingers press into his right hand's palm. Bucky can feel the crinkling paper that Steve had been so desperate to hide in the closet; it held one of Steve's masterpieces, he's sure.

"Hey, Barnes!" Natasha calls out, her hands in the pockets of her jeans, "Come walk with me."

Bucky’s brows pinched together with confusion, “What for?”

“Neither of us are going home.” Is her explanation.

Bucky's heading her way without further argument, only looking back to Steve when he's climbing into his car - the faintest blush against his cheeks. Bucky smiles to himself as Natasha hooks their arms together, sticking to his side.

* * *

           Saturday. November 26th, 2016.  NYC High School, NYC, New York.

 

_Dear Mr. Pierce,_

_We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us as; in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as:_

_A brain. An athlete. A basket case. A princess. And a criminal._ _Correct?_

_That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning._

_We were brainwashed._

_But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question?_

_Sincerely yours,_

_The Breakfast Club._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked it, leave a kudos if you did! Thanks again to cptnmarvel-ous.tumblr.com/(AO3) cptnmarvel_ous for helping me!  
> My Tumblr: future-mrs-frost.tumblr.com


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